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A reading of Deuteronomy as a model of continuity,
adaptation and innovation for contemporary discussions
of Anglican liturgy.
JENNIFER MIRIAM CORCORAN
Thesis submitted to the University of Nottingham for the
degree of Doctor of Philosophy
MARCH 2017
i
Abstract
This work examines the important question of why there is deadlock in
current Anglican discussions of fresh expressions of church. The study
outlines the different perspectives represented by Mission-shaped Church and
For the Parish, and how the discussions up to this point, in focusing on
ecclesiology as a methodological approach, have not provided a way of
bringing people together.
This study will argue that a liturgical methodological approach provides a
more appropriate model for discussion of mission in an Anglican context, and
that a liturgical paradigm of continuity, adaptation and innovation presents a
positive approach that can bring both sides of the current debate together.
Up to this point, there has been a lack of thorough biblical research in this
debate, and therefore the paradigm of continuity, adaptation and innovation
will be based on a liturgical reading of Deuteronomy. This text is particularly
appropriate given the way in which the narrative context shows the
community responding to the change from a nomadic to agrarian lifestyle.
The work undertakes a detailed liturgical reading of Deuteronomy 6 and 26,
providing a more rigorous definition of the term liturgical and applying it to
demonstrate the presence of continuity of community practices alongside
adaptation of those practices and innovation in introducing new practices. It
is these three strands of continuity, adaptation and innovation that are used
in providing a paradigm of community change and transition that responds to
the initial question and provides a means of holding together a variety of
perspectives and seeking a way forwards.
ii
Acknowledgements
Thanks must go to Dr Doug Ingram, Rev Dr George Lings and Dr Ben Fulford.
The first people who encouraged me to think that there really might be a
contribution to make to the discussion of fresh expressions of church in an
Anglican context from the Old Testament. They were invaluable in helping
me work through my initial thoughts and in beginning to realise the joys and
challenges of doctoral study. I am grateful to the following educational trusts
for enabling me to study through providing funding: St Luke’s College
Foundation, Tyndale House Erasmus Fund, Foundation of St Matthias,
Women’s Continuing Ministerial Educational Trust, and the Diocese of
Southwell and Nottingham. I am also grateful to Rt Revd Colin Buchanan who
read the first chapter, making vital comments. I want to thank Rev Dave Talks
who volunteered to proof read my work, numerous errors would have still
been present without his attention to detail.
I want to express my deep-felt thanks and appreciation for the time and
support that Dr David Firth has given to me since taking over as my
supervisor. He has been constantly demanding throughout, but without it I
would never have got to this point. His and Lynne’s encouragement and
prayerfulness for me and the family through this journey has been invaluable.
My constant friend and study-buddy throughout, Rev Suse Chapman, has
been a huge support to me. Having someone to share the pressures and joys
of writing a PhD with, and of life too, has been much more of a gift than I can
put into words. To my amazing parents, who both sadly died during the time
I’ve worked on this. You were always a great support to me. I miss you. To
my wonderful husband who has been by my side throughout this crazy
adventure. I am so glad that you are in my life and that we face things
together. To the gift of my two lovely little people, you are amazing and
wonderful, and you teach me every day about joy and living in the moment.
16 Circumcise, then, the foreskin of your heart, and do not be stubborn
any longer. 17 For the LORD your God is God of gods and Lord of lords,
the great God, mighty and awesome, who is not partial and takes no
iii
bribe, 18 who executes justice for the orphan and the widow, and who
loves the strangers, providing them food and clothing. 19 You shall also
love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt. 20 You
shall fear the LORD your God; him alone you shall worship; to him you
shall hold fast, and by his name you shall swear. 21 He is your praise; he
is your God, who has done for you these great and awesome things
that your own eyes have seen. (Deut 10:16-21).
Abbreviations
ANE Ancient Near East
ASB Alternative Service Book
AsTJ Asbury Theological Journal
ATR Anglican Theological Review
BAR Biblical Archaeology Review
BBR Bulletin for Biblical Research
BDB Brown-Driver-Briggs
BHQ Biblica Hebraica Quinta
BI Biblical Interpretation
BibRev Bible Review
BibThBul Biblical Theology Bulletin
CBQ Catholic Bible Quarterly
DtrH Deuteronomic History
EJT European Journal of Theology
ExpT Expository Times
FAT Forschungen zum Alten Testament
IALC International Anglican Liturgical Consultations
Int Interpretation
IVP Inter-Varsity Press
JBL Journal of Biblical Literature
JETS Journal of Evangelical Theological Studies
JLT Journal of Literature and Theology
JSOT Journal for the Study of the Old Testament
LXX Septuagint
NIDOTTE New International Dictionary of Old Testament Theology and
Exegesis
OTS Old Testament Studies
OUP Oxford University Press
RdQ Revue de Qumran
SamP Samaritan Pentateuch
iv
SL Studia Liturgica
SPCK Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge
SWJT Southwestern Journal of Theology
TDOT Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament
TOTC Tyndale Old Testament Commentary
TNICOT The New International Commentary on the Old Testament
TynBul Tyndale Bulletin
VT Vetus Testamentum
VTE Vassal-treaty of Essarhaddon
ZAW Zeitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft
Gen Genesis
Exod Exodus
Lev Leviticus
Num Numbers
Deut Deuteronomy
Josh Joshua
1 Sam 1 Samuel
2 Sam 2 Samuel
1 Kgs 1 Kings
2 Kgs 2 Kings
1 Chr 1 Chronicles
2 Chr 2 Chronicles
Ezra Ezra
Neh Nehemiah
Esth Esther
Job Job
Ps Psalms
Prov Proverbs
Eccl Ecclesiastes
Isa Isaiah
Jer Jeremiah
Lam Lamentations
Ezek Ezekiel
Dan Daniel
Hos Hosea
Joel Joel
Amos Amos
Mic Micah
Zech Zechariah
Mal Malachi
Mark Mark
Luke Luke
i
Contents
Introduction to Chapter One ..................................................................... 1
Ecclesiological and liturgical approaches to continued dialogue ................... 5
A liturgical approach ................................................................................... 7
Conclusion to ecclesiological and liturgical approaches to dialogue ........... 13
The importance of liturgy to Anglican identity ................................................. 13
The argument for a common liturgical pattern ............................................ 15
The history of Anglican liturgy ...................................................................... 18
Early Church .............................................................................................. 18
Reformation .............................................................................................. 20
Post-reformation ...................................................................................... 22
20th Century developments ...................................................................... 24
Questions of Inculturation ........................................................................ 36
Conclusion to the importance of liturgy to Anglican identity ...................... 39
A liturgical response to the deadlock ............................................................... 40
Deuteronomy as a text of formation and transition .................................... 42
A liturgical hermeneutic ............................................................................... 45
‘Anamnesis and the Eucharist’ ................................................................. 46
Anamnesis ................................................................................................. 48
Liturgical collapse of time ......................................................................... 53
Worship and mission ................................................................................ 54
Conclusion to a liturgical response to the deadlock..................................... 59
Conclusion......................................................................................................... 60
Introduction to Chapter Two ................................................................... 63
Use of ‘liturgy’ and ‘liturgical’ in wider scholarship ......................................... 66
Learning and Education ................................................................................ 67
Liturgical and cultic influences on the text ................................................... 69
Liturgical reception of the text ..................................................................... 72
Conclusion to use of liturgy and liturgical in wider scholarship ................... 73
The three strands of the liturgical hermeneutic .............................................. 74
The importance of Remembering ................................................................ 74
The liturgical collapse of time ....................................................................... 79
ii
Importance of ..................................................................................... 82
Worship and Mission .................................................................................... 83
Conclusion to the liturgical hermeneutic section ......................................... 86
The text demonstrating the liturgical characteristics....................................... 87
Continuity ..................................................................................................... 87
Adaptation .................................................................................................... 89
Adapting biblical law codes ...................................................................... 90
Adapting treaty and covenant documents ............................................... 94
Innovation ..................................................................................................... 96
Conclusion to liturgical characteristics in the text ....................................... 99
Conclusion....................................................................................................... 100
Introduction to Chapter Three .............................................................. 102
Translation and notes ..................................................................................... 102
Notes on the text ........................................................................................ 104
The use of ‘liturgical’ as a description of Deuteronomy 6 in wider scholarship
........................................................................................................................ 109
Verses 4-9 ................................................................................................... 110
Verse 13 ...................................................................................................... 111
Verses 20-25 ............................................................................................... 112
Reception ................................................................................................ 113
Conclusion to the use of ‘liturgical’ as a description of Deuteronomy 6 in
wider scholarship ........................................................................................ 116
Gittoes’ three strands ..................................................................................... 116
The Importance of remembering ............................................................... 117
Liturgical collapse of time ........................................................................... 118
The connection between worship and mission .......................................... 122
Internal structure of Deut 6 .................................................................... 123
Passing on the faith ................................................................................ 126
Conclusion to Gittoes’ three strands .......................................................... 128
Continuity, adaptation and innovation in Deuteronomy 6 ............................ 129
Continuity ................................................................................................... 129
Adaptation .................................................................................................. 131
Innovation ................................................................................................... 134
Conclusion to continuity, adaptation and innovation ................................ 135
iii
Can love be commanded? How does a liturgical reading contribute to this
important and ongoing discussion? ............................................................... 135
Moran ......................................................................................................... 136
Lapsley .................................................................................................... 140
Treaty documents ....................................................................................... 142
The importance of grace ......................................................................... 146
How is to be interpreted? ..................................................................... 150
Conclusion to a liturgical response to whether love can be commanded . 157
Conclusion....................................................................................................... 158
Introduction to Chapter Four................................................................. 160
Translation ...................................................................................................... 161
Notes ........................................................................................................... 162
The use of ‘liturgical’ as a description of Deuteronomy 26 in wider scholarship
........................................................................................................................ 167
Von Rad and the ‘little historical credo’ ..................................................... 168
Wider analysis of the liturgical nature of Deut 26 ..................................... 172
Conclusion to the use of liturgical as a description in wider scholarship .. 177
A liturgical hermeneutic ................................................................................. 177
The importance of remembering ............................................................... 177
Liturgical collapse of time ........................................................................... 180
Worship and Mission .................................................................................. 184
Conclusion to the liturgical analysis ........................................................... 186
Continuity, adaptation and innovation in Deut 26 ......................................... 186
Continuity ................................................................................................... 187
Adaptation .................................................................................................. 189
Innovation ................................................................................................... 192
Conclusion to continuity, adaptation and innovation ................................ 195
The importance of liturgy as a framework for the law code .......................... 195
Radical democratisation ................................................................................. 200
Democratisation of power, Deut 16, 18 and 29 ......................................... 201
Deut 12 and centralisation ......................................................................... 203
Profane slaughter ....................................................................................... 205
Conclusion to Radical Democratisation ...................................................... 209
Conclusion....................................................................................................... 210
iv
Introduction to Chapter Five ................................................................. 212
A liturgical methodology ............................................................................ 213
Continuity ............................................................................................... 214
Adaptation .............................................................................................. 216
Innovation ............................................................................................... 217
Forming a response to the original question ............................................. 223
Missional liturgical examples of the paradigm ............................................... 228
Integration of children ................................................................................ 235
Movement and sensory involvement ..................................................... 237
Speaking out loud ................................................................................... 239
Opportunity to commit and re-commit .................................................. 240
Prayer ...................................................................................................... 240
Innovation of first fruits .............................................................................. 241
What is being celebrated? ...................................................................... 242
Moving the timing of the celebration..................................................... 243
Communal eating and celebrating ......................................................... 244
Employment and immigration ................................................................ 244
Bringing an offering ................................................................................ 245
Not just innovation ..................................................................................... 246
Conclusion and Summary ............................................................................... 247
Bibliography .................................................................................................... 251
Internet resources ...................................................................................... 270
1
Chapter One: Why is there
deadlock in current Anglican
discussions of Fresh Expressions
of Church?
Introduction to Chapter One
In 2004 the Church of England produced a report entitled Mission-shaped
Church.
1
The emphasis of this report is to encourage the church to respond to
the rapid changes in contemporary culture, and to reflect this through
creative re-imaginings of the ‘shape’ of church.
2
The incarnation
3
and the
creativity of God
4
are key theological motifs used in the report to support the
approach of holding lightly to church practice in order to respond creatively to
the surrounding context. The importance placed on traditional Anglican
practices are minimised, or at best become negotiable, in order to form what
have become known as fresh expressions of church. It would not be an
exaggeration to state that the importance the report places on the need for
change, in response to the changes in contemporary culture, far outweighs
any importance placed on maintaining continuity with what has gone before.
It is difficult to overstate the importance of this one report and the effect that
it has had, and indeed continues to have, on the Church of England.
No Synod report for many years has had such an impact as Mission-
shaped Church on the way the Church of England understands itself
and its commitment to mission. The original report has sold over
1
Church of England Mission and Public Affairs Council, Mission-shaped Church: Church
Planting and Fresh Expressions of Church in a Changing Context, GS 1523 (London: Church
House Publishing, 2004).
2
Mission-shaped Church, p. 1.
3
Mission-shaped Church, p. 12.
4
Mission-shaped Church, p. 13.
2
27,000 copies. It has been distributed and widely used in a number of
other parts of the Anglican Communion and beyond. A German edition
has also been published.
5
In describing the impact of the report, Giddings adds that is ‘is not too much
to say that the report identified and provoked a revolution in the church’s
understanding of its mission in a changing context.’
6
A further measure of the
impact of the report is seen through the number of publications that followed
from Church House Publishing, developing the concept of ‘Mission-shaped’
and applying it to different contexts.
7
The importance of this report is also
seen in the follow-up report to the General Synod of the Church of England in
2010, and the far-reaching range of proposals that were part of the motion
put forward to Synod as a key part of this second report.
8
Given this unprecedented reception of a Church of England report, it would
be easy to assume that the report itself, and the far-ranging consequences
deriving from it, were broadly celebrated and accepted by the church. This,
however, is not the case. A number of edited volumes written since the
5
P. Giddings, ‘Foreword’ to Mission Shaped Church: A Mixed Economy for Mission, report
from the Mission and Public Affairs Council GS 1761 (London: Church House Publishing, 2010)
p. 1.
6
Giddings, ‘Foreword’, p. 1.
7
S. Gaze, Mission-shaped and Rural: Growing Churches in the Countryside, (London: Church
House Publishing, 2006); M. Withers, Mission-shaped Children: Moving Towards a Child-
centred Church, (London: Church House Publishing, 2006); S. Hope, Mission-shaped
Spirituality: the Transforming Power of Mission, (London: Church House Publishing, 2006); P.
Bayes & T. Sledge, Mission-shaped Parish: Traditional Church in a Changing Context, (London:
Church House Publishing, 2006); T. Sudworth, Mission-shaped Youth: Rethinking Young
People and the Church, (London: Church House Publishing, 2007); S. Croft (ed.) Mission-
shaped Questions: Defining Issues for Today’s Church, (London: Church House Publishing,
2008).
8
‘Motion for 2010 1.1. That this Synod • affirm the mixed economy of traditional churches
and fresh expressions of church, working in partnership, as the most promising mission
strategy in a fast changing culture; • encourage those responsible for vocations and training
in dioceses and parishes to promote the imaginative recruitment, training and deployment of
ordained and lay pioneer ministers in and beyond title posts; • commend the making of
Bishops’ Mission Orders to integrate suitable fresh expressions of church in the life of the
dioceses; and • request the Mission and Public Affairs Division and the Research and Statistics
Unit to gather evidence on the spiritual and numerical growth of the mixed economy church
in general and fresh expressions of church in particular, and to bring a further report or
reports to Synod in the next quinquennium.’ Mission Shaped Church: A Mixed Economy for
Mission, report from the Mission and Public Affairs Council GS 1761 (London: Church House
Publishing, 2010) p. 3.
3
report was published contain chapters raising questions about the substance,
theology, proposals and ecclesiology of Mission-shaped Church.
9
As well as
these, John Hull wrote a short but important and detailed critique of the
report. He rightly points out that the report fails ‘to distinguish clearly
between the church and the mission of God’,
10
and, as he argues, this lack of
clarity leads to confusion in the report about the role of the church in
mission.
11
Hull also questions the report’s use of McGavran’s ‘homogeneity
principle’.
12
In discussing this principle, he raises the point that in a mixed
context the poorer and less well-educated people are usually dominated by
those who are wealthier and more educated. Despite raising this, Hull is still
deeply critical of the way Mission-Shaped Church argues for churches in
poorer communities to reflect the local community by being made up of
those from that area.
13
Hull’s critique of McGavran’s principle is important
and highlights the risk of creating segregated, interest-based groups as
potential fresh expressions of church. Having acknowledged the point,
however, about the potential for domination of some social groups in mixed
settings, he does not then provide an alternative solution, other than a hope
that ‘ultimately all human diversity will be gathered into the single church
which will fill the earth.’
14
What would have been more helpful in his critique,
would have been to suggest a practical solution that finds a middle ground
between either potential segregation or potential domination.
9
See for example, M. Percy, ‘Old tricks for new dogs? A critique of fresh expressions’ in ed. L.
Nelstrop & M. Percy, Evaluating Fresh Expressions: Explorations in Emerging Church,
(Norwich: Canterbury Press, 2008) pp. 27-39; A. Tilby, ‘What Questions does Catholic
ecclesiology post for contemporary mission and fresh expressions?’ in ed. S. Croft, Mission-
shaped Questions: Defining Issues for Today’s Church, (London: Church House Publishing,
2008) pp. 78-89; M. Percy, ‘Many rooms in my Father’s house: The changing identity of the
English parish church’ in ed. S. Croft, The Future of the Parish System: Shaping the Church of
England for the 21st Century, (London: Church House Publishing, 2006) pp. 3-15.
10
J. M. Hull, Mission-Shaped Church: A Theological Response, (London: SCM Press, 2006) p. 1.
11
Hull, Mission-Shaped Church: A Theological Response, p. 1.
12
Hull, Mission-Shaped Church: A Theological Response, p. 14. For further information about
McGavran’s ‘Homogeneous Unit Principle’ see D. A. McGavran, Understanding Church
Growth, (Eerdmans: Grand Rapids, Michigan, 1970) pp. 85-87, 287-90.
13
Hull, Mission-Shaped Church: A Theological Response, pp. 14-15.
14
Hull, Mission-Shaped Church: A Theological Response, p. 16.
4
Undoubtedly, however, the strongest and most sustained critique to arise
thus far is For the Parish.
15
The authors argue vigorously for the importance
of continuity of practice and tradition in the face of change. They critique the
lack of rigorous theological work in the report, highlighting amongst other
things the report’s emphasis on the individual over the communal
16
and the
way in which the link between salvation and the ecclesial community is
lessened.
17
Davison and Milbank are right to raise the concerns that they
have, and it is without a doubt that they have provided a voice for a section of
the Church of England that has felt overlooked and marginalised in the push
towards a broad acceptance and development of fresh expressions of church.
As Gittoes, Green and Heard have recently helpfully highlighted, the ‘upsurge
in energy and enthusiasm for fresh expressions of church has led, in some
instances, to feelings of isolation, bewilderment and even hostility for some in
traditional parish contexts.’
18
Yet, despite this, For the Parish is itself not
without criticism. One of the main concerns is that For the Parish presents a
‘highly idealized image of parish life, which fails to recognize the extent of
secularization and ignores or rejects any Christian ministry that lies beyond a
narrow definition of “the traditional parish”.’
19
For the Parish does raise
important questions about fresh expressions of church in the Church of
England, and importantly provides a voice for part of the church that has felt
pushed to one side. The unrealistic portrayal of parish life and lack of
engagement with ministry beyond the traditional parish, though, means that
the authors have not managed to draw together those on both sides of this
important and on-going debate.
The responses and reactions to Mission-shaped Church and For the Parish
have reached deadlock. Those who oppose the level and speed of change
15
A. Davison, & A. Milbank, For the Parish: A Critique of Fresh Expressions, (London: SCM
Press, 2010).
16
Davison, & Milbank, For the Parish, p. 14.
17
Davison, & Milbank, For the Parish, p. 60.
18
J. Gittoes, B. Green & J. Heard, Generous Ecclesiology: Church, World and the Kingdom of
God, (London: SCM Press, 2013) p. 1.
19
D. Goodhew, A. Roberts & M. Volland, Fresh!: An Introduction to Fresh Expressions of
Church and Pioneer Ministry, (London: SCM Press, 2012) pp. 43-44.
5
being pursued by the Church of England argue that in breaking continuity with
the past there is a serious risk of losing the fundamental identity of the
Church of England. Those keen to continue moving in the direction that the
Mission-Shaped Church report is suggesting, argue that a loss of ability to
change and adapt means increasing irrelevance to contemporary society and
continued decline in attendance. It is vital for the Church of England that a
way is found to draw people from both sides of this debate together. As
Gittoes, Green and Heard state, ‘a sustained conversation is needed if we are
to avoid the fragmentation of parish and new churches, and a divided
understanding of what it means to be church.’
20
Attempts thus far to find
common ground from which to have this shared conversation have not
succeeded, with some keen to stress the importance of continuity with the
past, whilst others emphasise the need to adapt to new contexts. In order to
propose a new approach for this current impasse it will be important to show
the vital link between the Church of England’s practice and its doctrine.
Before doing this, it is important to understand how others have been
approaching this question and why the approaches used thus far have not
succeeded in drawing both sides of the debate together.
21
Ecclesiological and liturgical approaches to continued dialogue
Up to now the theological method used to address this question has been
ecclesiological rather than missiological. Croft helpfully articulates the
rationale for this approach, stating that although both missiology and
ecclesiology are crucial to the wider discussion, he believes that missiology ‘is
much better resourced than thinking and reflection on church.’
22
The
20
Gittoes, Green & Heard, Generous Ecclesiology, p. 2.
21
The focus of this study is specifically on the Church of England’s response to Fresh
Expressions of Church and presents an argument that a liturgical approach to this question is
more fitting given Anglican self-understanding. It may be that aspects of this work could
contribute helpfully to discussions of fresh expressions of church beyond the Church of
England, but any such insights would be incidental and do not fall within the intentional focus
and scope of this work.
22
S. Croft, ‘Fresh Expressions in a Mixed Economy Church: A Perspective’ in ed. S. Croft,
Mission-shaped Questions: Defining Issues for Today's Church, (London: Church House
Publishing, 2008) p. 14.
6
premise, therefore, has sought to find a way to defend fresh expressions of
church as genuine examples of the church as understood by Anglican
ecclesiology. If this can be achieved, then the underlying missional push for
cultural and contextual adaptation will be supported by the developing
ecclesiological understanding.
What this has led to in practice, however, has been an attempt to find the
minimal ‘essence’ of the church so that it can then be re-clothed and
transplanted into different cultural settings and contexts.
23
In other words, a
gathered community could be called a ‘church’ if it fulfils and demonstrates
particular criteria a writer argues are what defines a church. This
‘reductionist’ approach to ecclesiology has been strongly criticised by Davison
and Milbank throughout their book. This is not a surprise given that a more
catholic theology of church will place a higher emphasis on the importance of
continuity and tradition. This creates a point of sharp disagreement with the
often more evangelical approaches of those involved with fresh expressions
of church and the Mission-shaped Church report in particular, given that it
places far less emphasis on the maintenance of church structures, traditions
and practices.
One way in which Davison and Milbank reject this method is to argue that it is
not at all easy to separate the content of something from its form, as this
reductionist approach seeks to do, and that while the two are distinguishable
they are inseparable.
24
In other words, they do not support the premise that
it is possible to pick up certain characteristics from their cultural and
sociological context and transplant them into a different context. This has
meant that the primary ecclesiological approach to exploring fresh
expressions of church in an Anglican context has not succeeded in drawing
23
See for example, M. Atkins, ‘What is the essence of the Church?’ in ed. S. Croft, Mission-
shaped Questions: Defining Issues for Today's Church, (London: Church House Publishing,
2008) pp. 16-28; S. Croft, ‘What counts as a fresh expression of church and who decides?’ in
ed. L. Nelstrop and M. Percy, Evaluating Fresh Expressions: Explorations in Emerging Church,
(Norwich: Canterbury Press, 2008) pp. 3-14.
24
Davison, & Milbank, For the Parish, p. 1.
7
people together. As such, it is surprising that ecclesiology is still the dominant
methodological approach within the recent Church of England report on fresh
expressions of church, published jointly with the Methodist Church.
25
What
will be argued for below is that a liturgical rather than ecclesiological
approach can provide the means for sustained and continuing dialogue for
both sides of the debate. As will be demonstrated, this is because a liturgical
approach is more appropriate given Anglican self-understanding and identity.
A liturgical approach
The methodology of Mission-shaped Church, in terms of how to go about
starting a fresh expression of church, intentionally places issues of liturgy and
worship aside. The directions given to those wanting to begin a fresh
expression of church are that it should start by listening to the context and
serving the community.
This is the start of “incarnational mission”. Which means following the
example of Christ and seeking to evangelise within the community you
are now serving. In that context we can begin to make disciples. The
very last thing that is decided is the nature of the worship service.
Fresh expressions are not about planting a congregation which
worships the way the planters prefer and then hoping that other
people like it! Listening comes first, decisions about worship styles
last.
26
This shows the lack of regard given to the importance of worship and liturgy,
relegated as it is to final place and described in terms of ‘worship style’.
Within such a methodology there is no attention given to issues of community
formation through worship, nor the inter-related nature of baptism, Eucharist
and mission within Anglican liturgical theology. Indeed, this absence of the
importance of the liturgical is commented on by Davison and Milbank. They
argue that by ignoring liturgy it is unclear how fresh expressions of church
‘embody an ethical programme, and a mode of Christian living.’
27
Equally
25
Archbishops' Council and Trustees for Methodist Church Purposes, Fresh Expressions in the
Mission of the Church: A Report of an Anglican-Methodist Working Party, (London: Church
House Publishing, 2012) p. 9.
26
Archbishop's Council, The Fresh Expressions Initiative, GS 1766 (London: Church House
Publishing, 2009) p. 2.
27
Davison & Milbank, For the Parish, p. 209.
8
absent from this approach is any engagement with work produced from
decades of liturgical thinking and development in the Church of England. The
contribution that this work could have been making to this discussion will be
explored below. This is an understandable reaction against churches which
for too long have prioritised worship over evangelism and mission, but a
response that has side-lined worship has resulted in neglecting crucial insights
that could have been gained through engaging with questions of liturgy and
liturgical renewal.
One particular way that Davison and Milbank argue for the importance of
liturgy, and in particular Anglican Eucharistic liturgy, is that participation in
the liturgy provides a ‘grammar’ for Christian life.
28
In other words, the
regular repetition of and participation in the liturgy enables the individual and
the community to grow in knowledge and understanding of God and the
Christian life. Whilst they demonstrate the role of liturgy in shaping ethics,
which is important, they do so through a static and traditional picture of
Anglican parish Eucharistic worship. What is emphasised is an ahistoric
church liturgical tradition that not only does not allow for the possibility of
adaptation to context but does not even acknowledge that there might be a
need for this. This assumption creates clear conflict between them and those
exploring fresh expressions of church. As well as this, there is also an implicit
assumption within their writing that an individual will know and understand
the theology contained within the liturgy. So, for example, they write that to
‘respond to the greeting is to affirm the gatheredness of the others present;
their value and integrity in Christ is affirmed in the same phrase that unites us
in the one body, sharing the one Spirit.’
29
Whilst there is no dispute over their
theological interpretation of the liturgy, there has to be a question as to
whether every member of the congregation realises that this is what is
28
Davison and Milbank, For the Parish, p. 211.
29
Davison and Milbank, For the Parish, p. 213.
9
happening at this, and at other moments in the liturgy that are similarly
described.
30
One book that does offer some reflections on the possible place of liturgy and
worship within fresh expressions of church is Croft and Mobsby’s edited
volume, Fresh Expressions in the Sacramental Tradition.
31
Much of the
volume is made up of interesting but anecdotal chapters of people reflecting
on their own practice and experience. Wallace, as an example, discusses
‘Visions’, a fresh expression of church in York, and describes their journey
through a variety of different liturgical experiments before ending up with
their current model. She does acknowledge, however, that this came about
more through trial and error than an intentional theologically rationale.
32
Through reflections on their experience of starting and running a fresh
expression of church, Rundell provides a helpful response to the thinking of
Davison and Milbank that liturgy, even in an Anglo-Catholic context, should
not be adapted. He argues strongly that the Mass that they celebrate today is
not that of Hippolytus or Cranmer but rather ‘it is a successor to all of them.
It is the result of much borrowing, adapting and changing over time. Tradition
is, above all, a dynamic entity, not a static museum piece.’
33
He goes on to
add that liturgy became for them the means to communicate the story of
salvation.
30
A recent study presents interesting reading as to how much of the rich theology present
within Eucharistic Prayers, the particular area of focus, is comprehended and recalled by
worshipping members attending Church of England services. The analysis of the research
undertaken suggests that even long-standing members of Anglican congregations may not
remember and comprehend the theological depth and content of liturgical services. R.
Cresswell, An Investigation into the Levels of Recollection and Comprehension of Themes
within Common Worship Eucharistic Prayers Amongst the Laity in the Church of England,
(Unpublished Master’s Dissertation: University of Chester, 2017) p. 44.
31
S. Croft & I. Mobsby (eds), Fresh Expressions in the Sacramental Tradition, Ancient Faith,
Future Mission (Norwich: Canterbury Press, 2009).
32
S. Wallace, ‘Alternative Worship and the Story of Visions in York’, in ed. S. Croft & I.
Mobsby, Fresh Expressions in the Sacramental Tradition, Ancient Faith, Future Mission
(Norwich: Canterbury Press, 2009) pp. 12, 14.
33
S. Rundell, ‘Blesséd: A Sacramental Perspective of Alternative Worship with Young People’
in ed. S. Croft & I. Mobsby, Fresh Expressions in the Sacramental Tradition, Ancient Faith,
Future Mission (Norwich: Canterbury Press, 2009) p. 134.
10
The Mass provides both fixed points of reference and an ever-
changing cycle of encounter with God, and this mix of the familiar and
the challenging provides a framework on which to hang new
explorations of worship; rather than being a limit to fresh expressions
of worship, it forms a skeleton upon which a new creation is formed (2
Cor. 5.17).’
34
Through this, Rundell then provides a challenge to the assumptions strongly
set out in Mission-shaped Church about placing matters of worship-style at
the back of the queue in terms of the process of developing fresh expressions
of church. The reflection, stemming from their own experience of setting up
and running a fresh expression aimed at reaching out to young people
specifically, showed that worship was a way of providing an encounter with
God for seekers as a key part of intentional and deliberate evangelism.
35
Given that each author within this volume wrote separately with no
knowledge of nor interaction with each other, there are obvious differences
of emphasis and this means that there is no consistent model or theological
approach to fresh expressions of church that is explored. As such, whilst it is
interesting to read the reflections on practice and to note that these
explorations arising from a more Anglo-Catholic perspective, the book does
not provide a consistent theological reflection on which to develop. It is also
important and interesting to note that despite the focus on liturgy and
worship throughout the book as a whole, the then Archbishop of Canterbury,
Rowan Williams, continues to show an emphasis on ecclesiology rather than
liturgy in his introduction to the volume.
36
It is not only those seeking to defend and promote fresh expressions of
church that have opted for an ecclesiological approach, but similarly almost
all critics of Mission-shaped Church and For the Parish have done so through
discussions of ecclesiology, rather than that of worship and liturgy. So, for
34
S. Rundell, ‘Blesséd’, p. 135.
35
S. Rundell, ‘Blesséd’, p. 134.
36
R. Williams, ‘Address to the Fresh Expressions National Pilgrimage, Coventry Cathedral,
December 2008’ in ed. S. Croft & I. Mobsby, Fresh Expressions in the Sacramental Tradition,
Ancient Faith, Future Mission (Norwich: Canterbury Press, 2009) p. 7.
11
example, Hull’s critique of Mission-shaped Church does not mention the
relegation of liturgy and worship in the text, but focuses on a perceived
confusion between ecclesiology and missiology.
37
Similarly, a more recent
critique points to the strengths and weaknesses of both volumes, but
mentions worship only briefly and simply to illustrate that care needs to be
taken not simply to reject all forms of ‘traditional’ Anglican worship.
38
In their recent publication in direct response to this deadlock, showing that
this is still very much a pressing issue, Gittoes, Green and Heard have also
opted to take an ecclesiological approach.
39
At several points Gittoes, Green
and Heard raise the importance of the role of worship within the church.
They draw attention, for example, to the silence in For the Parish about ‘the
gap between those who attend worship on a regular basis and those living
and working within the parish.’
40
From this they argue that unless ‘we are
able to describe accurately the world within which we live and worship and
work, unless we make space to hear the stories and assumptions of those
who come to us, we cannot fully engage with the mission of God.’
41
Similarly,
in a later chapter, Gittoes draws attention to the attitudes to worship in both
Mission-shaped Church and For The Parish, in that on the one hand patterns
are flexible and missional situations demand innovation, and on the other
hand the emphasis on the given nature of received patterns of worship
through the ages.
42
These observations and reflections on the place and
nature of worship within this debate are raised here, but are not explored
further in the book. Importantly, what they do note in their book is the
crucial need ‘to affirm the connection between inheritance and innovation.’
43
Neglecting the importance of liturgy in this debate has not only meant side-
lining a significant part of Anglican self-understanding, but also ignoring the
37
Hull, Mission-shaped Church.
38
Goodhew, Roberts & Volland, Fresh!, pp. 27, 30-31, 58.
39
Gittoes, Green & Heard, Generous Ecclesiology, p. 1.
40
Gittoes, Green & Heard, Generous Ecclesiology, p. 7.
41
Gittoes, Green & Heard, Generous Ecclesiology, p. 7.
42
J. Gittoes, ‘Where is the Kingdom?’ in Gittoes, Green & Heard, Generous Ecclesiology:
Church, World and the Kingdom of God, (London: SCM Press, 2013) p. 99.
43
Gittoes, Green & Heard, Generous Ecclesiology, p. 3.
12
lessons that could be learned from the way in which liturgy has changed,
developed and adapted to different contexts over time. It is clear that an
approach that could hold together both ‘inheritance’ and ‘innovation’ would
have a lot to offer in terms of providing the means of discussion for both sides
of the debate.
The words ‘liturgy’ and ‘worship’ are defined and understood variously,
depending on context and audience. For the purposes of this work it will be
helpful to set out the specific ways they are being used for this study.
Worship is understood here as more of a generic concept.
44
For example, it is
a term that has clear breadth of meaning beyond just Anglican or indeed
Christian church services. It is indeed a ‘universal phenomenon’,
45
having to
do with ‘reaching out to the Transcendent’
46
or ‘assigning worth to what is
thought to be worthy and giving expression to that estimate of value.’
47
In
other words, worship can happen anywhere, individually or corporately,
demonstrating what is held to be important by that person or people at a
given time. It has a breadth of reference that can denote a variety of spiritual
practices, both Christian and non-Christian, occurring in a variety of settings
both traditionally associated with spirituality and beyond these arenas. As
compared to this, liturgy is being used here in a more specific and focused
way. The term originated from a general, non-religious Greek word meaning
the work of the people,
48
it then came to mean a communal act of public
worship containing some sort of ritual activity.
49
As such, liturgy is used here
44
W. A. Dyrness, A Primer on Christian Worship: Where we’ve Been, Where we are, Where we
can go, (Grand Rapids, Michigan | Cambridge: Eerdmans, 2009) p. 1.
45
P. Bishop, ‘Worship’ in ed. P. E. Fink, The New Dictionary of Sacramental Worship, (Dublin:
Gill and MacMillan, 1990) p. 1331.
46
J. D. Crichton, ‘A Theology of Worship’ in ed. C. Jones, G. Wainwright & E. Yarnold, The
Study of Liturgy, (London: SPCK, 1978) p. 6.
47
C. P. Price & L. Weil, Liturgy for Living, revd. edn. (Harrisburg, Pennsylvania: Morehouse
Publishing, 2000) p. 8.
48
Price and Weil, Liturgy for Living, p. 13.
49
See for example, L. J. Madden, ‘Liturgy’ in ed. P. E. Fink, The New Dictionary of Sacramental
Worship, (Dublin: Gill and MacMillan, 1990) p. 741; K. F. Pecklers, Worship, New Century
Theology (London: Continuum, 2003) p. 23; L. Weil, A Theology of Worship, The New Church’s
Teaching Series vol. 12 (Lanham, Maryland: Cowley, 2002) p. 7; J. F. White, Introduction to
Christian Worship, 3rd edn. (Nashville, Tennessee: Abingdon Press, 2000) p. 26.
13
to mean specific practices that take place within the context of intentional,
communal times of worship. This encompasses particular texts that may be
used, such as the Book of Common Prayer or Common Worship, as well as
specific acts, for example baptism or Eucharist. Liturgy, however, is more
than simply the written text on the page of an order of service, it is also the
‘form’ that shapes Christian communal gathering encompassing not only
words, but also music, movement, gesture, silence.
50
Conclusion to ecclesiological and liturgical approaches to dialogue
The reaction to the Mission-Shaped Church report introduced concepts,
practices and decisions that have created a significant level of concern for
some within the Church of England. An ecclesiological methodology has been
used in much of the material that supports fresh expressions of church, and
although this has not enabled dialogue between both parties it still continues
to be used. It is clear that issues of worship and liturgy have remained very
much at the edges of these on-going conversations, and although comments
are made, these have remained significantly underdeveloped. The next
section will demonstrate why debating issues of Anglican ecclesiology and
self-understanding without reference to liturgy is to make a fundamental
omission. This will also set out why a liturgical approach to this question is
therefore the most appropriate and why this approach has the capacity to
hold together questions of continuity, adaptation and innovation, points
noted above as crucial for this on-going dialogue.
The importance of liturgy to Anglican identity
Liturgy is fundamental for Anglican self-understanding. Whilst other
reformed churches are rooted in ‘confessional documents, or doctrinal
50
M. Perham, To Tell Afresh, (London: SPCK, 2010) p. 28
14
formularies, or a systematically articulated theology,’
51
and the Roman
Catholic Church is led from within the Magisterium, the ‘Anglican anchor is
worship’.
52
Anglican doctrine is not expressed through a statement of beliefs,
there is no ‘key year or key text’
53
; instead Anglican identity ‘emerges from a
combination of text, institution, context and practice, both ecclesiastical and
secular and drawn from a number of key periods.’
54
As compared to other
churches within the reformed tradition, an Anglican expression of its theology
appears at the end of its reformation, not at the beginning.
55
In his contribution to the volume exploring fresh expressions of church from
an Anglo-Catholic perspective, Maclaren reflects on the importance of liturgy
for Anglican self-understanding.
But at the core, [Anglicans] have sought to retain the grand and robust
beauty of holiness. And in particular, they have cherished ancient
liturgy as a way of doing so. By centring on worship – liturgical
worship, with a contemplative leaning, with a taste for the beautiful –
Anglicans were less infatuated with attempts to shrink-wrap the
mysteries of God and gospel in tidy, little, square verbal packages; like
the Psalmist, the one thing they desired, the one thing they sought
above all others was the beautiful holiness of God. If the locus of
constricting religion is in books, the locus of Anglican religion is in
liturgy. If the one is focused on argument and correctness, the other
is focused on reverence and awe.
56
An Anglican understanding of doctrine is contained in a remarkably muted
five lines in the Canons of the Church of England. The canon states that
51
C. Hefling, ‘Introduction: Anglicans and Common Prayer’ in ed. C. Hefling & C. Shattuck, The
Oxford Guide to the Book of Common Prayer, (Oxford: OUP, 2006) p. 3.
52
Hefling, ‘Introduction: Anglicans and Common Prayer’, p. 3.
53
M. Chapman, Anglican Theology, (London: T & T Clark, 2012) pp. 8-9.
54
Chapman, Anglican Theology, pp. 8-9.
55
W. P. Haugaard, ‘From the Reformation to the Eighteenth Century’ in ed. S. Sykes, J. Booty,
J. E. & J. Knight revd. edn. The Study of Anglicanism, (London: SPCK, 1998) pp. 10-11. For
further insight into early Anglican understanding of polity and worship see also The Books of
Homilies, the first printed work relating to the public worship and teaching of the Church of
England, first printed in 1547. J. Griffiths (ed.) The Two Books of Homilies Appointed to be
Read in Churches, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1859) p. 1.
56
B. Maclaren, ‘One, Holy, Catholic and Fresh?’ in ed. S. Croft & I. Mobsby, Fresh Expressions
in the Sacramental Tradition, Ancient Faith, Future Mission (Norwich: Canterbury Press, 2009)
p. 20.
15
Church of England doctrine is ‘grounded in the Holy Scriptures, and in such
teachings of the ancient Fathers and Councils of the Church as are agreeable
to the said Scriptures.’
57
It is found in three places, two of which are liturgical,
namely The Book of Common Prayer, and the Ordinal, as well as the Thirty-
nine Articles of Religion.
58
This short canon forms the heart of the
Declaration of Assent, ‘made by deacons, priests and bishops of the Church of
England when they are ordained and on each occasion when they take up a
new appointment’.
59
Similarly Readers and Lay Workers make the
declaration, but without reference to administering sacraments, when
admitted and licensed.
60
The canon is therefore both to be found in liturgical
settings as well as recited in liturgical settings during services for ordination
and licensing, underlining the significance of liturgy for Anglican doctrine.
This is further reinforced by the way in which theological understandings of
practices such as baptism or the Eucharist are, for the Anglican Church,
expressed primarily through the liturgy for those services. What is
understood and believed is expressed in what is spoken and enacted through
the liturgy and rubrics of the services. This is why any change to liturgy or
practice within Anglican services can be so controversial, as a change in liturgy
could potentially also mean a change in doctrine.
The argument for a common liturgical pattern
Given the importance of liturgy for Anglican understanding, it is not surprising
that there is strong criticism against liturgical change and adaptation,
generally expressed in terms of the importance of maintaining identity and
doctrinal orthodoxy.
61
Davison and Milbank argue that a ‘common liturgy is
57
Church of England, The Canons of the Church of England: Canons Ecclesiastical promulgated
by the Convocations of Canterbury and York in 1964 and 1969 and by the General Synod of
the Church of England from 1970, 6th complete edn. (London, Church House Publishing,
2008) p. 10.
58
Church of England, The Canons of the Church of England, p. 10.
59
Church of England Liturgy and Ritual, Common Worship: Services and Prayers for the Church
of England, (London: Church House Publishing, 2000) p. xi.
60
Church of England Liturgy and Ritual, Common Worship, p. xi.
61
See for example Davison, & Milbank, For the Parish, p. 96; Tilby, ‘What Questions does
Catholic Ecclesiology pose for Contemporary Mission and Fresh Expressions?’, pp. 78-89; C.
Irvine, The Art of God: The Making of Christians and the Meaning of Worship, (London: SPCK,
16
central to the identity of the Church of England.’
62
They are not alone in
holding this position. Tilby
63
writes one of the few chapters mentioning
liturgy within the discussion of Mission-shaped Church and fresh expressions
of church, in which she emphasises that the ‘shape of the Body in Anglican
ecclesiology is in essence a liturgical shape.’
64
She points to the importance of
keeping to a coherent practice of orthodox liturgical understanding within
Anglicanism in order to maintain identity, given the lack of other referential
anchors.
65
In a similar way, Irvine argues that an increasing focus on
adaptation to the local is a move towards ‘a narrow parochialism and an
increasing "congregationalism" within the Church of England.’
66
It is certainly
appropriate to raise the point that the Church of England must be cautious
about embracing anything that moves it away from its identity as an episcopal
church towards a more congregational ecclesiology. The idea, though, that
the church cannot reflect local concerns without giving up its nature is clearly
untrue given its ability to respond appropriately to specific local concerns, be
they crises and tragedies or joy and celebration. Sykes too raises concerns
about changing liturgical practices, arguing that liturgical revision is
conducted by what he describes as ‘“Élite” groups’ who are exercising
‘dominance over “lower” participants in the Church’.
67
He is right to raise
awareness of potential issues of power and control in church settings, but any
type of change, regardless of whether it is liturgical or not, would have the
potential to feel like an imposition on people who perceive themselves as
2005) p. 63; M. Perham. ‘Introduction’ in ed. M. Perham, The Renewal of Common Prayer:
Unity and Diversity in Church of England Worship, Essays by the Liturgical Commission,
(London: SPCK, 1993) pp. 4-5; S. Neill, ‘Liturgical Continuity and Change in the Anglican
Churches’ in ed. D. Martin and P. Mullen, No Alternative: The Prayer Book Controversy,
(Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1981) p. 10; S. Sykes, Unashamed Anglicanism, (London: Darton,
Longman & Todd, 1995) pp. 116-118.
62
Davison, & Milbank, For the Parish, p. 96.
63
Tilby, ‘What Questions does Catholic Ecclesiology pose for Contemporary Mission and Fresh
Expressions?’, pp. 78-89.
64
Tilby, ‘What Questions does Catholic Ecclesiology pose for Contemporary Mission and Fresh
Expressions?’, p. 78.
65
Tilby, ‘What Questions does Catholic Ecclesiology pose for Contemporary Mission and Fresh
Expressions?’, p. 84.
66
Irvine, The Art of God, p. 63.
67
Sykes, Unashamed Anglicanism, p. 118.
17
powerless. At the same time, however, it also needs to be noted that inertia
and lack of change could also hide serious issues of power and control in
church contexts.
An argument for maintaining traditional liturgical practice is often expressed,
particularly within For the Parish, with the assumption that there exists a
transcendent, ahistorical church culture and liturgy. Any attempt to change
or adapt liturgical practices would therefore risk removing this inherent
abstract and otherworldly quality. Hardy argues strongly against this acultural
view of and approach to liturgy.
Where they cannot distinguish between what is fundamental and
what comes from transient historical and cultural influences, they are
driven to repeat the ‘whole package’ as the ‘only way’ to preserve
what is fundamental, and they end up resisting all change and drawing
lines between themselves and others. Like people everywhere who
feel isolated and threatened, they cling to old practices and oppose
anything different.
68
Although written prior to For the Parish, Hardy, in effect, anticipates the
approach and attitude demonstrated by Davison and Milbank. In contrast, he
argues for creativity rather than repetition within ‘evangelical Catholicism’,
69
the term for that he proposes and defends in his book. He makes crucial
connections between worship, mission and context,
70
relationships that can
be overlooked by those arguing against liturgical adaptation, but that are
especially significant for this debate. He adds that in ‘a world of rapidly
increasing social complexity, the Church cannot simply adhere to fixed
traditional forms and maintain itself by “managing” itself.’
71
In other words,
the response by the church to changes in contemporary society cannot simply
be to continue doing what it has always done.
68
D. W. Hardy, Finding the Church, (London: SCM Press, 2001) p. 82.
69
Hardy, Finding the Church, p. 87.
70
Hardy, Finding the Church, p. 4.
71
Hardy, Finding the Church, p. 4.
18
The next section will show that an examination of the history of Anglican
liturgy reveals that it has always been changing and adapting to context,
which provides strong support for the argument for change. Importantly, this
also shows that there have been significant factors that have continued
through times of change, showing that continuity and adaptation are both
normal parts of liturgical development.
The history of Anglican liturgy
The liturgy of the Church of England has been through a process of constant
change. As Stevenson writes, even the 1662 Book of Common Prayer itself ‘is
an embodiment of an organic development, which introduced, at the
eleventh hour, two gems of Anglican devotion, the General Thanksgiving and
the Prayer for All Sorts and Conditions of Men.’
72
Spinks even goes as far as
saying that ‘the idea that the Church of England ever had complete liturgical
uniformity as provided by the services in the Book of Common Prayer is
simply not true.’
73
To understand this process it is important to look at each
significant stage of development as this will show the influences and
theological understandings that pulled the Church of England in different
directions and affected its liturgical practices.
Early Church
In terms of recognising the importance of context, it is very clear that the
Jewish background of many of the first disciples influenced aspects of early
Christian worship practices. This influence can be observed in a variety of
liturgical settings, such as baptism, confirmation, daily offices, communion,
ordination and the liturgical calendar.
74
In terms of the extent of this cultural
72
K. Stevenson, ‘Anglican Identity and Church of England Worship Today: An Historical
Reflection’ in ed. M. Perham The Renewal of Common Prayer: Unity and Diversity in Church of
England Worship, Essays by the Liturgical Commission, (London: SPCK, 1993) p. 9.
73
B. Spinks, ‘Not So Common Prayer: The Third Service’ in ed. M. Perham, The Renewal of
Common Prayer: Unity and Diversity in Church of England Worship, Essays by the Liturgical
Commission, (London: SPCK, 1993) p. 55.
74
R. T. Beckwith, ‘The Jewish Background to Christian Worship’ in The Study of Liturgy, revd.
edn. ed. C. Jones, G. Wainwright, E. Yarnold S. J. & P. Bradshaw (London: SPCK, 1992) pp. 73-
79.
19
impact, one of the most influential authors on liturgical practices, Dix, has
argued that the pattern for the Eucharist has been unchanged since the
celebration of the Last Supper by Jesus and his disciples.
75
At the heart of it all is the Eucharistic action, a thing of an absolute
simplicity – the taking, blessing, breaking and giving of bread and the
taking, blessing and giving of a cup of wine and water, as these were
first done with their new meaning by a young Jew before and after
supper with his friends on the night before He died. Soon it was
simplified still further, by leaving out the supper and combining the
double grouping before and after it into a single rite. So the four-
action Shape of the Liturgy was found by the end of the first century.
76
This presentation of Eucharistic history has influenced liturgical scholarship
for a number of years. More recent scholarship, however, has questioned the
assumptions that Dix presents.
77
Spinks argues convincingly that it is not
possible to assume that the limited records that are preserved showing
liturgical practices from the first two centuries represent anything like a
universal practice or understanding.
78
Bradshaw, similarly, argues strongly
that what evidence exists points instead to variety rather than uniformity of
practice,
79
stating that there appear to have been several different forms of
Eucharistic-type celebrations in the first 250 years of Christian communities.
80
He goes on to argue that the lack of texts from this time ‘is not just because
they have not survived but because Christians generally do not seem to have
written down their prayers but preferred oral transmission and
improvisation.’
81
It has even been suggested that this variety of tradition may
be observable within scripture and early church writing.
Indeed, the Last Supper tradition reported in Mark and Matthew may
well betray inculturation already, since it seems to portray that Supper
in terms of one form of primitive Christian Eucharistic usage in which
the bread and cup events occur back-to-back within a meal rather
75
D. M. Dix, The Shape of the Liturgy, (London: A & C Black ltd., 1945) p. 743.
76
Dix, The Shape of the Liturgy, pp. 743-44.
77
See for example C. Cocksworth, Holy, Holy, Holy: Worshipping the Trinitarian God, Trinity
and Truth Series (London: Darton, Longman & Todd, 2004) p. 94; A. J. Chupungco, Cultural
Adaptation of the Liturgy, (Eugene, Oregon: Wipf and Stock, 2006) p. 3.
78
B. D. Spinks, Do This in Remembrance of Me: The Eucharist from the Early Church to the
Present Day, SCM Studies in Worship and Liturgy (London: SCM Press, 2013) p. 51.
79
P. F. Bradshaw, Eucharistic Origins, (London: SPCK, 2004).
80
Bradshaw, Eucharistic Origins, p. 60.
81
Bradshaw, Eucharistic Origins, p. 38.
20
than separated by the meal, as one sees in Luke, 1 Corinthians, and
Didache 9-10.
82
The limited evidence that does exist from the early church clearly shows that
Christian worship was strongly influenced by its Jewish context. The weight of
current argument also points towards a reasonably high level of contextual
adaptation and development, with local improvisation not only being
permitted but encouraged.
Reformation
The beginning of the Anglican Church was turbulent. The 1662 Book of
Common Prayer, as it now stands, has to be understood as a product of
liturgical process, adaptation and variation that spanned over a hundred
years. The initial ‘radical changes’
83
of Protestant reformation carried out
during the reign of Edward VI were put into reverse when Mary became
queen. Several leading reformers, such as Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer were
killed, whilst others fled to places such as Geneva in order to escape
persecution.
84
When Elizabeth I became queen there was a turn once again
towards Protestantism, and her reign led to a rapid process of liturgical
writing and development.
In 1548 an English vernacular communion preparation was issued that
was to be inserted prior to the place of communion in the Latin Mass.
In 1549 a Book of Common Prayer (BCP), with an Act of Uniformity,
replaced all Latin rites other than for ordination. The latter were
replaced in 1550. The 1549 Prayer Book, some of the services of
which seemed little more than vernacular translations, were replaced
in 1552, with a new Act of Uniformity, by a more obviously Protestant
book. The chief architect and primary liturgiographer of these
liturgical projects was Archbishop Thomas Cranmer.
85
Politics clearly had a direct influence of the development of Anglican liturgy,
and Spinks points out that the Reformation brought about more deliberate
82
A. Kavanagh, ‘Liturgical Inculturation: Looking to the Future’ in Studia Liturgica vol. 20 no. 1
1990, p. 96.
83
C. J. Cocksworth, Evangelical Eucharistic Thought in the Church of England, (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1993) p. 33.
84
Cocksworth, Evangelical Eucharistic Thought, p. 33.
85
Spinks, Do This in Remembrance of Me, p. 313.
21
and self-conscious liturgical writing than had been the case previously.
86
The
Anglican Church simultaneously had to stand up to both the doctrine of the
Church in Rome on the one hand and the practices of the Puritans in their
own country on the other. This was achieved by ensuring doctrinal limits
through the Articles of Religion, whilst the practical concerns were managed
‘by an insistence on liturgical and organizational conformity.’
87
The different prayer books produced over the years of tension and transition
are clearly marked as products of their particular time and context,
88
revealing and reflecting the theology, ecclesiology and language of their day.
The politics, theology and social context of the Reformation had a direct
impact on the development of the first Anglican liturgies, with several
different texts produced in quick succession, leading finally to the version in
1662, still in use to this day.
It is notable that an analysis of the language of the Book of Common Prayer
shows a limited use of the available scriptural imagery and metaphors for
God, with a preference for language that is hierarchical and patriarchal.
89
Interestingly the very idea of change and development was written into the
Preface of the 1549 Book of Common Prayer. It states that ‘the liturgy is seen
as one of the human aspects of the Church which may, for appropriate and
serious reasons, undergo change or correction so that it may serve its true
purpose.’
90
Given the changes that continued to take place until the Book of
Common Prayer reached its final form in 1662, it is more than a little ironic
that in the final version of the prayer book this statement was omitted.
86
Spinks, Do This in Remembrance of Me, p. 271.
87
Cocksworth, Evangelical Eucharistic Thought, p. 33.
88
R. D. Williams, ‘Imaging the Kingdom: Some Questions for Anglican Worship Today’ in ed. K.
Stevenson and B. Spinks The Identity of Anglican Worship, (London: Mowbray, 1991) p. 6.
89
D. Holeton, ‘The Formative Character of Liturgy’ in ed. T. J. Talley A Kingdom of Priests:
Liturgical Formation of the People of God, Grove Liturgical Study no. 53 (Nottingham: Grove,
1988) p. 10.
90
L. Weil, ‘The Gospel in Anglicanism’ in ed. S. Sykes, J. Boots and J. Knight, The Study of
Anglicanism, revd. edn. (London: SPCK, 1998) p. 60.
22
Post-reformation
A significant movement within the Anglican Church in the 1800s was the
Oxford Movement, also known as Tractarianism. It can be traced back to its
origins at the ‘Assize Sermon delivered on 14 July 1833 by John Keble, and the
meeting at Hadleigh Rectory, 15-19 July 1833.’
91
This movement brought
about the introduction of ideas such as the eastward position for celebrating
communion, candles, and Eucharistic vestments, which was ‘met with open
hostility from Protestant-minded Anglicans.’
92
Liturgical uniformity, if it had
ever existed, was fading. It was not simply candles and clothing that was
changing, but the Tractarians brought about a much more sacramental
understanding of baptism, Eucharist and confession
93
than had commonly
been held before. White describes the changes that happened to Anglican
worship between 1833 and 1928 as ‘only slightly less striking than those of
the Reformation era.’
94
Anglican theology and worship was being moved
away from its reformed heritage towards embracing more catholic practices
and theologies.
The Oxford Movement, in support for these changes, looked back beyond the
Reformation in order to connect the Anglican Church with its catholic
heritage.
95
The reintroduction into Anglican services of what were widely
held to be more catholic aspects of church tradition caused some to push for
an emphasis on more ‘reformed’ values within the Church of England. As part
of the response to these developments, the Parker Society was formed by the
evangelical wing of the Church of England, keen to emphasise the importance
of the Reformation for Anglican theology and ecclesiology. As Cocksworth
states, there ‘is no doubt that Evangelicals had a great love for the 1662
91
J. Fenwick & B. Spinks, Worship in Transition: The Twentieth Century Liturgical Movement,
(Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1995) p. 39.
92
P. Butler, ‘From the Early 18th Century to the Present Day’, in ed. S. Sykes, J. Booty, J. E. & J.
Knight revd. edn. The Study of Anglicanism, (London: SPCK, 1998) p. 45.
93
J. F. White, Protestant Worship: Traditions in Transition, (Louisville, Kentucky: Westminster
/ John Knox Press, 1989) p. 110.
94
White, Protestant Worship, p. 108.
95
Chapman, Anglican Theology, pp. 11-16.
23
communion service. They saw it as essentially Cranmer’s rite.’
96
Both groups
began to publish widely in an attempt to establish themselves as the ‘true’
voice of Anglicanism, looking back to either the Reformation or historical
Catholicism in order to support their arguments. Chapman rightly points out,
though, that both parties were equally guilty of imposing their own
interpretations on the historical events they selected, to further their
particular concerns.
97
A continuing effect of the Oxford Movement on the Church of England was
the success of the Parish Communion Movement, instigating a weekly
celebration of communion in every parish. Prior to this, in the late 17th and
early 18th centuries, communion may have been celebrated only four or five
times a year in Anglican parish churches.
98
Bishops, alongside those more
catholic members of the church, had been asking for more frequent
communion services,
99
as had a significant number of people in the
evangelical tradition.
100
There is also clear evidence that as overseas mission
was becoming significant at this time, important connections were being
made between the Eucharist and the mission of the Church.
101
As Sachs
comments, by the mid-1800s a growing awareness of the missional context
abroad was connected with the need for liturgical renewal.
102
The developments from this period in the history of the Church of England
have had a long-lasting effect on church practices, as can still be witnessed
today. It is interesting that many things often assumed to be ‘typically
Anglican’, such as candles, vestments and frequent Eucharistic service, are
actually a product of change and adaptation in the nineteenth century rather
than stemming from its origins in the seventeenth century. This period of
96
Cocksworth, Evangelical Eucharistic Thought, p. 110.
97
Chapman, Anglican Theology, p. 46.
98
Cocksworth, Evangelical Eucharistic Thought, p. 61.
99
Cocksworth, Evangelical Eucharistic Thought, p. 62.
100
Cocksworth, Evangelical Eucharistic Thought, pp. 73-75.
101
J. Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist: Contemporary Anglican Approaches, (Aldershot:
Ashgate, 2008) p. 48.
102
W. L. Sachs, ‘Plantations, Missions and Colonies’ in ed. C. Hefling & C. Shattuck, The Oxford
Guide to the Book of Common Prayer, (Oxford: OUP, 2006) p. 153.
24
history also shows that sharp divisions in the church about different
approaches and practices in worship are not a novel occurrence.
20th Century developments
The pace of liturgical change and development accelerated during the
twentieth century. Part of this was prompted by the fact that the Church of
England was finally beginning to recognise that ‘in no Anglican church did
either clergy or people make any serious attempt to carry out the rubrics
exactly.’
103
It was difficult for those arguing against change to maintain that
standardisation of liturgical practice was the norm across the country when
growing evidence indicated otherwise.
A further and significant contribution to this increasing pace of change was
the interaction between the Anglican Church and the different cultures it was
engaging with in worldwide mission. Avis rightly points out that as different
cultures and nations became part of the growing Anglican Communion, it
could no longer simply be centred around ‘centralization or uniformity.’
104
This had a direct impact on the church, when as early as in 1908, resolution
36 of that year's Lambeth Conference stated that ‘liturgical uniformity should
not be regarded as a necessity throughout the Anglican Communion.’
105
Whilst this was seen initially as a need arising from missional engagement,
Brown, writing in 1965, argues that the church in Europe and America had
also to recognise the need for mission and evangelism within their own
countries, just as much as the churches elsewhere around the world. He goes
on to argue that it was this local evangelistic need that was revealing ‘the
inadequacies of our theology and of the irrelevance of much of our
worship’.
106
Despite this growing awareness, 25 years after Brown was
writing, the same concerns were being raised that issues of liturgical
103
Neill, ‘Liturgical Continuity and Change in the Anglican Churches’, p. 4.
104
P. Avis, The Identity of Anglicanism: Essentials of Anglican Ecclesiology, (London: T & T
Clark, 2007) p. 9.
105
D. Holeton & C. Buchanan, A History of the International Anglican Liturgical Consultations
[IALCs] 1983- 2007, Grove Joint Liturgical Studies, 63 (Norwich: Canterbury Press, 2007) p. 5.
106
L. W. Brown, Relevant Liturgy, (London: SPCK, 1965) p. 28.
25
adaptation are just as relevant for people living in England as they are for
those in other countries.
107
The important issue of liturgical change and
adaptation to context has been on the Anglican Communion’s agenda for over
100 years, and has been raised as an issue for the national church for at least
50 years. Given this lengthy awareness, and the direct connections made by
people between liturgical change and a missional context, it is surprising that
liturgy has not featured much more prominently in the current debate
surrounding the impact of the Mission-Shaped Church report.
Rural and urban concerns
An interesting response to the Parish Communion movement is seen in a
1990 Church of England report into rural ministry. Whilst acknowledging the
importance of regular celebrations of communion, the report highlights that
in a rural setting a regular weekly parish communion can unintentionally end
up excluding many in the parish. Those feeling excluded are not just adults
and children who are not confirmed, but those in village communities from
other denominations who find themselves worshipping at the local parish
church as it often can be the only place of worship in the community.
108
As a
consequence, the report makes this statement. ‘We recommend that each
church discusses the frequency of its communion services and that it reviews
this from time to time in the light of the needs of the people it exists to
serve.’
109
The report also argues for an increased awareness of the need for
adaptation to context.
110
All these special services, marking as they do events which cut across
the lives of the whole community, offer an enormous evangelistic
opportunity. They present the Church with a chance to show all
members of the parish that they are welcome in a church which not
107
D. R. Holeton ‘Introduction’ in ed. D. R. Holeton, Liturgical Inculturation in the Anglican
Communion, Grove Liturgical Study 62 (Nottingham: Grove Books, 1990) p. 7.
108
This is a concern highlighted in the report written prior to developments of the
introduction of ‘communion before confirmation’.
109
‘Faith in the Countryside’ Report of the Archbishop’s Commission on Rural Areas
(Worthing: Churchman Publishing, 1990) p. 189. Italics original.
110
‘Faith in the Countryside’, p. 198.
26
only has a human face, but which can also be fun, and, most
importantly, that God is concerned with every aspect of their life.
111
This report explores the impact that practices and traditions of the Church of
England have on specifically rural settings, highlighting issues of mission,
outreach and contextual adaptation. Despite the important points the report
raises, it is not referenced in Mission-Shaped Church at all, and as such any
insights that it could have contributed are over-looked.
It is not just from a rural perspective that the Church of England has examined
questions raised about the suitability of Anglican liturgy, but urban concerns
were considered in a report that came out five years before ‘Faith in the
Countryside’.
112
The urbanisation of society has continued to be an issue with
which the Church of England has struggled. It is undeniable that the Church
of England has often privileged the rural over the urban and by an implicit
middle-class nature can alienate people living in urban and inner-city areas.
113
In his historical survey, Butler describes the church as ‘antiquated and
cumbrous’, showing that it struggled to respond to the changes of the 1700s,
with the rise in population and the rapid growth and expansion of towns and
cities due to the Industrial Revolution.
114
The introduction to Faith in the City notes the challenges arising from the
disconnect between traditional Anglican worship and a highly urban setting,
describing the Church of England as ‘a bearer of rural nostalgia.’
115
It is
interesting to note that even though Faith in the City raises this valid criticism,
For the Parish continues to reveal an obviously rural bias twenty-five years
later.
116
In reaction to this rural focus, Faith in the City states that the
111
‘Faith in the Countryside’, p. 198.
112
Church of England Archbishop’s Commission on Urban Priority Areas Faith in the City: a
Call for Action by the Church and Nation, (London: Church House Publishing, 1985).
113
V. R. Atta-Bafoe & P. Tovey ‘What does Inculturation mean?’ in ed. D. R. Holeton, Liturgical
Inculturation in the Anglican Communion, Grove Liturgical Study 62 (Nottingham: Grove
Books, 1990) p. 15.
114
Butler, ‘From the Early 18th Century to the Present Day’, p. 32.
115
Church of England Archbishop's Commission on Urban Priority Faith in the City, p. 5.
116
Davison, Milbank, For the Parish, see the examples provided in the chapter ‘Rebuilding a
Christian Imaginary in the Parish’' pp. 170 - 208, especially p. 164.
27
church’s commitment to what is local should ‘be clear in the patterns of
worship, music, presentation of the Gospel, and, indeed, in theology.’
117
In
response to this, members of the Liturgical Commission spent time in Urban
Priority Area (UPA) parishes, which subsequently led to the production of
Patterns for Worship.
118
This book of liturgical resources developed out of
this acknowledgement and realisation that ‘one blanket liturgical solution
would not easily meet the differing demands of the local sub-cultures.’
119
The
Church of England report, also called Patterns for Worship, highlights the
needs in particular of UPA parishes and the desire to resource ‘Family
Services’
120
as the reasons for providing new resources and flexible worship
structures.
121
Significantly, the report also acknowledges that the needs of
the local community are not best served by ‘a group of experts at the
centre’
122
but rather by provision of a framework which will encourage the
creation of local liturgy. This encouragement for creativity is not picked up by
either Mission-shaped Church or For the Parish, as neither make mention of
Faith in the City.
As seen from the response particularly to the Faith in the City report the pace
of liturgical change developed through the twentieth century. There was a
growing seriousness with which the national church invested time and
resources into exploring and encouraging liturgical adaptation to context. Yet
just as this was growing and developing, so too did the reaction against this
process of change.
117
Church of England Archbishop’s Commission on Urban Priority Areas Faith in the City, p.
75.
118
Church of England Liturgy and Ritual, Patterns for Worship, (London: Church House
Publishing, 1995).
119
T. Lloyd, ‘Inner City England’ in ed. D. R. Holeton, Liturgical Inculturation in the Anglican
Communion, Grove Liturgical Study 62 (Nottingham: Grove Books, 1990) p. 41.
120
The concept of ‘Family Services’ were a development within parishes as a response to the
Parish Communion movement. D. C. Gray, ‘Liturgy and Society’ in ed. K. Stevenson and B.
Spinks The Identity of Anglican Worship, (London: Mowbray, 1991) p. 141.
121
Church of England Liturgical Commission, Patterns for Worship: a Report by the Liturgical
Commission of the General Synod of the Church of England, GS 898 (London: Church House
Publishing, 1989) p. 2.
122
Church of England Liturgical Commission, Patterns for Worship, p. 2.
28
The Liturgical Movement
The Liturgical Movement originated from the Roman Catholic Church but has
had clear influences on a number of other denominations.
123
Fenwick and
Spinks argue that the Liturgical Movement could be considered as one of the
most important and central parts of the church in the twentieth century.
They are keen to point out that they do not consider this to be solely about
texts, but more broadly about how Christians understand and experience
worship and how this shapes their understanding of faith.
124
Vatican II (1962-1965) had a significant impact on liturgical reform in several
denominations including the Anglican Church.
125
Chupungco demonstrates
the importance in the Roman Catholic Church that Vatican II had in terms of
encouraging the cultural adaptation of liturgy, and stressing the importance
of ‘unity’ rather than ‘uniformity’.
126
He adds, significantly, that in ‘SC40
Second Degree of Adaptation’ they dropped the word ‘missions’ to recognize
that adaptation can be just as appropriate in ‘France’ as it is in ‘mission
countries’.
127
He goes on to argue that when liturgy is not adapted to context
there is a growing disconnect, an individualised piety that moves away from
main church body, pointing to things like ‘family chapels’ as an example of
this. He writes that this leads to a remembering of a past story, rather than
engaging it as a present reality.
128
From an Anglican perspective, Oliver
echoes these concerns. He stresses the importance of cultural adaptation of
liturgy, arguing that ‘otherness’ of liturgy is not the equivalent of ‘otherness’
of God, stating that worshipping ‘“as if we were in Restoration England” is not
necessarily worshipping “as if we were in the presence of God”.’
129
Care has
to be taken that tradition does not become something that ends up being
123
Fenwick & Spinks, Worship in Transition, p. 37.
124
Fenwick & Spinks, Worship in Transition, p. 2.
125
J. F. Baldovin ‘The Liturgical Movement and Its Consequences’ in ed. C. Hefling & C.
Shattuck, The Oxford Guide to the Book of Common Prayer, (Oxford: OUP, 2006) p. 249.
126
Chupungco, Cultural Adaptation of the Liturgy, see esp. pp. 42ff.
127
Chupungco, Cultural Adaptation of the Liturgy, pp. 51-52.
128
Chupungco, Cultural Adaptation of the Liturgy, p. 33.
129
J. M. C. Oliver ‘Worship, Forming and Deforming’, in R. Meyers & P. Gibson, The Worship-
Shaped Life: Liturgical Formation for the People of God, Canterbury Studies in Anglicanism
(Norwich: Canterbury Press, 2009) p. 13.
29
worshipped in and of itself, but is simply an aid in worship of God. As White
argues, one of the main strengths of the gospel is the way it can be expressed
in the different ‘particularities of human culture’
130
rather than something
that is abstracted away from the particular.
Two significant points arise out of the liturgical movement that are important
for this particular debate. The first is that an important part of this
movement has included ‘a protest against individualism’.
131
The second is a
reaction against ‘clericalism’, within Roman Catholicism and much of
Protestantism. Increased literacy and education amongst the laity has led to
increased involvement, this ‘has resulted in a decentralizing of the manner in
which worship is conducted.’
132
An increase in participation clearly relates to
the aspirations of those involved with fresh expressions of church, as they
seek to find ways of engaging with people. A stand against individualism,
however, provides an important counter to a negative aspect of
contemporary society, which would help to ensure that modern culture is not
simply embraced without some degree of critique.
Given the significance of the Liturgical Movement, and what it could
contribute to the ongoing discussion, it is surprising that this has not been
picked up on or developed by those writing about adaptation and cultural
awareness in discussions about fresh expressions of church in Anglican
contexts.
International Anglican Liturgical Consultations (IALCs)
One place within Anglicanism that sought to discuss the importance of liturgy
for the wider church communion have been the IALCs.
From as early as the late 1800s, Anglicans outside of England were beginning
to develop and explore adaptations of the BCP.
133
The 1968 Lambeth
130
S. J. White, Groundwork of Christian Worship, (Peterborough: Epworth Press, 1997) pp.
188-9.
131
Fenwick & Spinks, Worship in Transition, p. 5.
132
Fenwick & Spinks, Worship in Transition, p. 6.
133
Holeton & Buchanan, A History, pp. 5-7.
30
Conference ‘did not address liturgical revision directly’,
134
although it was
clear by this point that significant liturgical development was occurring across
the Anglican Communion.
135
In an attempt to draw together some shared
thinking and discussion, the first IALC took place in 1985 in Boston. The
ecumenical gathering of international liturgical scholars was already taking
place there, for the residential meeting of Societas Liturgica. This meant that
many of those who would want to be part of the IALC would be in the same
place.
Comments arising out of the IALCs demonstrate a continuing conversation
within global Anglicanism about the importance of cultural awareness and the
need for appropriate liturgical adaptation. The York statement ‘Down to
Earth Worship’ proceeding from the 3rd IALC, held in York in 1989,
highlighted the danger that a lack of inculturation meant people were willing
‘to live in two different cultures, one of their religion and the other of their
everyday life.’
136
This is a significant challenge for those arguing against
adaptation and change.
An important conclusion from IALC 5, in 1995, stated that Anglican unity
would continue to exist in common approaches to and structures of worship,
rather than in adhering to specific words.
137
Written prior to the publication
of Common Worship in 2000, this idea of common patterns and outlines does
now exist alongside more formal written liturgies, for example the outline for
A Service of the Word and also for A Service of the Word with a Celebration of
Holy Communion.
138
There has been a desire arising from IALC gatherings to encourage both
Provinces and smaller groups to recognise the value of a cultural contribution
134
Holeton & Buchanan, A History, p. 9.
135
Holeton & Buchanan, A History, p. 11.
136
‘The York Statement: "Down to Earth Worship" Liturgical Inculturation and the Anglican
Communion’ Finding of the 3rd IALC, York, 1989. in ed. D. R. Holeton, Liturgical Inculturation
in the Anglican Communion, Grove Liturgical Study 62 (Nottingham: Grove Books, 1990) p. 9.
137
Holeton & Buchanan, A History, p. 38.
138
Church of England Liturgy and Ritual, Common Worship, pp. 24-25.
31
to liturgy. Despite the encouragement for cultural adaptation and provision
given for local variety this is not always acted upon. It is also clear that there
is still a strongly held view amongst some that this level of variety undermines
the unity of the Anglican Church. In response to inaction, the Consultations
raised concerns that Provinces ‘should be wary lest sheer conservatism in
liturgy, or an overdependence upon resources from elsewhere, in fact
becomes a vehicle of cultural alienation, making Anglican worship a specialist
cult, rather than a people’s liturgy.’
139
This again highlights the concern that
when liturgy is not reflective of the culture, it presents instead an alternative
culture to those involved that can become a retreat away from the rest of life.
One of the principles and recommendations from IALC 5, in 1995, was that
the ‘embodied character of Christian worship must be honoured in
proclamation, music, symbol, and ritual.’
140
This is more than simply a change
of text, but touches every aspect of worship in terms of ‘buildings,
furnishings, art, music, and ceremonial’.
141
Gibson adds to this by saying that
it is through a level of openness to local creativity that the people of God will
be formed for mission and social action in the midst of their own culture and
setting.
142
Given the focus here on listening to the local community, a
primary goal for those involved with fresh expressions of church, it is again
surprising that these insights have not been incorporated in any way into the
work so far. A deliberate methodological move away from liturgy and
worship has meant missing out on important developments in this area that
would have provided support and insight to the work in support of fresh
expressions of church.
Changing liturgical texts
In the 19th century, the Church of England began exploring ways of changing
and updating the Book of Common Prayer. It brought out the Convocation
139
P. Gibson, ‘International Anglican Liturgical Consultation: A Review’ in Studia Liturgica 29.2
1999. p. 241.
140
Holeton & Buchanan, A History, p. 39.
141
Gibson, ‘International Anglican Liturgical Consultation: A Review’, p. 240.
142
Gibson, ‘International Anglican Liturgical Consultation: A Review’, p. 240.
32
Prayer Book in 1880, but this made no significant changes and was not
adopted.
143
In 1906 a Royal Commission report began the process of revision
that ‘culminated in the proposed BCP 1927, which failed to gain
parliamentary sanction, as was also the case of its revision in 1928.’
144
Both
wings of the church reacted negatively towards the 1928 prayer book.
‘Evangelicals opposed both versions of the book because they seemed to
extend some toleration to reservation of the sacred elements after
communion; Anglo-Catholics opposed the books because they did not
authorize reservation with a view to adoration.’
145
The Church of England
would have to wait several decades before any serious liturgical revision was
back on the agenda.
The 1958 Lambeth Conference received a report on the Book of Common
Prayer which instigated a movement of liturgical revision not only in England
but more widely throughout the Anglican Communion.
The Report stressed the primacy of worship in the life of the Church,
and the place of the Prayer Book in the life of the Anglican
Communion. It also suggested the recovery of “primitive” elements
which had fallen out (e.g. at the Eucharist, the use of an Old
Testament lesson, and in the Eucharistic prayer, thanksgiving for the
mighty works of God) and fuller participation of the laity (e.g. the
restoration of the prayers of the people).
146
The suggestion in the 1958 Lambeth Conference report was that the church
should depart from the Book of Common Prayer as the normal pattern for
communion services, but this ‘movement away from the Reformed Anglican
position was viewed with the most serious concern by Evangelicals’.
147
Even
though newer texts have been developed over time, the BCP has always
remained an authorised text for the Church of England.
Although the 1928 prayer book was never officially authorised, it was
‘unofficially’ used by churches for over 30 years before the Liturgical
143
Spinks, Do This in Remembrance of Me, pp. 344-5.
144
Spinks, Do This in Remembrance of Me, pp. 344-5.
145
Neill, ‘Liturgical Continuity and Change’, p. 5.
146
Fenwick & Spinks, Worship in Transition, p. 71.
147
Cocksworth, Evangelical Eucharistic Thought, p. 111.
33
Commission sought authorisation for experimental use over a trial period of 7
years. This took place in 1966 and it subsequently became known as Series
1.
148
The Liturgical Commission had already been working on their own new
liturgies and in 1965 published Series 2 with ‘Morning and Evening Prayer,
Intercessions and Thanksgivings, Thanksgiving after Childbirth, Burial, and an
appendix’.
149
An order of service for the Eucharist was published in 1967,
with Baptism, Confirmation and Evening Prayer following in 1968. ‘The
proposed services for Burial and Thanksgiving after Childbirth failed to secure
authorization, and no proposals for Marriage or Ordination were made. The
Series 2 range of services was, therefore, strictly limited.’
150
A further push towards the use of contemporary liturgical language in services
from the mid-1960s onwards, arose out of the continuing development of
modern English translations of the Bible. When the Liturgical Commission
published Series 3 in 1970 all its services were written in contemporary
language.
151
The various services were published over a 9-year period, but
after a while it was felt necessary to draw the liturgies together into one
authorised place, rather than being in separate publications. In 1980 the
‘Alternative Service Book (ASB)’ was published and authorised initially for 10
years, but then extended for a further 10.
152
In 2000 the first ‘Common
Worship’ volume was published, containing an order for Morning and Evening
Prayer, Compline, Holy Communion, Thanksgiving for the birth of a child,
Baptism, Collects, Psalms and Canticles.
153
Subsequent volumes have
followed with other services as well as seasonal resources and service
patterns. One of the main practical differences between ASB
154
and Common
Worship, is that the ASB was a one volume book of 1296 pages, whereas
148
P. Bradshaw, ‘Services and Service Books’ in Companion to Common Worship, Vol. 1, ed. P.
Bradshaw, (London: SPCK, 2001) pp. 17-18.
149
Bradshaw, ‘Services and Service Books’, p. 18.
150
Bradshaw, ‘Services and Service Books’, p. 18.
151
Bradshaw, ‘Services and Service Books’, pp. 18-19.
152
Bradshaw, ‘Services and Service Books’, p. 20.
153
Church of England Liturgy and Ritual, Common Worship.
154
Alternative Service Book 1980: together with the Liturgical Psalter, (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press | London: William Clowes Ltd. | London: SPCK, 1980).
34
Common Worship is intentionally designed to be a library of resources, made
up of several different volumes.
Changing language in new prayer books
One particular argument raised against liturgical adaptation has been the
change from traditional to contemporary language. In a response to Series 3,
Thompson typifies this argument in his discussion of the change from relative
to main clauses, meaning the way, for example, that ‘which is’ becomes ‘this
is’.
Simplify language in this way and you abolish (and therefore seem to
deny) the ontological dimension – the awareness of the eternal, the
abiding, of that which is too great and too mysterious to allow, in
human terms, of complete predication. The result is to present the
religious experience as something almost childish and infra-rational.
The very syntax of series 3 kills manifestation stone dead.
155
A great attachment has thus been placed on traditional language and archaic
grammar, which, with its difference from contemporary phraseology, has
come to be seen to carry a depth of meaning and reverence going beyond
simply the words and language in itself.
Given the importance of this, Davies undertook detailed research into
people’s understanding and perception of using traditional and contemporary
language in liturgy. He summarises the main arguments for the use of
contemporary language in liturgy as being motivated by theological
considerations, social change and cultural change.
156
He also states that
those arguing against this articulated the change as a sense of loss, a betrayal
of heritage, that a change in language changes the faith, and a loss of the
numinous in worship.
157
One of the significant points raised by those arguing against modernising
liturgical language has been to emphasise a focus on the transcendent within
155
I. R. Thompson, ‘Gospel Message or Gospel Manifestation’ in ed. D. Martin and P. Mullen,
No Alternative: The Prayer Book Controversy, (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1981) p. 31.
156
P. N. Davies, Alien Rites?: A Critical Examination of Contemporary English in Anglican
Liturgies, (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005) pp. 30-36.
157
Davies, Alien Rites?, pp. 37-44.
35
worship, and the perception that this is lost in newer liturgies. Davies
addresses this question directly. He asks rightly whether it is helpful as a
starting point to set up a dichotomy between transcendent and immanent,
and even whether the term transcendent is being used consistently.
158
In an
attempt to examine this point further, Davies explored the use of the word
‘numinous’ in particular, seeking to ascertain what is at the root of such
comments and whether there is any consistency in its use. From his research,
he concludes that use of this word in describing liturgy is subjective and very
much dependent on the perception of the individual worshipper.
159
He adds
that describing ‘the language of a text as “heightened” or “life-giving” gives
no indication of its vocabulary or grammatical structure.’
160
Given that Davies found it difficult to identify exactly what was meant by
people describing liturgical language as either transcendent or numinous, the
argument against changing liturgical language becomes highly subjective.
Some people have attached particular significance to certain words as they
appear in liturgical settings, that go beyond any surface meaning of the
words. Fenwick and Spinks provide a helpful reminder, though, that
meanings that have become attached to particular ‘liturgical’ language may
be quite different from its original meaning. For example, in discussing the
use of the word ‘thou’ in liturgy, they state that ‘although Cranmer did indeed
address God as “thou”, he also called Mrs Cranmer “thou” and his horse
“thou”.’
161
This makes discussions of liturgical language more complex as individuals
have attached layers of meaning to some words that do not necessarily
reflect original usage, and can be based on deeply personal and subjective
reasoning. Davies goes on to question whether it is ever right to assume that
everyone will derive the same meaning from words and symbols.
162
This is an
158
Davies, Alien Rites?, pp. 4-6.
159
Davies, Alien Rites?, p. 44.
160
Davies, Alien Rites?, p. 44.
161
Fenwick & Spinks, Worship in Transition, p. 149.
162
Davies, Alien Rites?, p. 15.
36
important question to raise for this particular discussion given that the
authors of For the Parish base some of their argument on the assumption that
everyone will have the same response to particular religious symbols.
163
Davies’ conclusion here, although obviously not written as a response to For
the Parish, raises a clear challenge to this assumption, demonstrating how
much individual experiences and background will influence the way they
perceive and respond to things.
The work that Davies has carried out shows that understanding and
interpretation of language in liturgy and worship can be highly subjective, but
it is important to recognise that for those individuals it remains something
very important and deeply spiritual. It cannot be denied, however, that those
for whom traditional language in worship remains significant, are more than
likely to be those who have grown-up experiencing it first-hand. This is true
not only of those who have maintained regular church attendance but also for
those who had some childhood experience of church and then return
subsequently. This then raises two points in terms of practice and mission.
On the one hand, for those with no previous church experience, traditional
language may well appear archaic, distant and confusing, and as such a more
contemporary use of language may well be appropriate. On the other hand,
however, for people who have some residual memory of church from their
childhood, it may well be that a traditional language service could be the most
mission-focused choice for a fresh expression of church.
Questions of Inculturation
Inculturation is significant for this debate and is sometimes used as a
theological defence by those arguing for adaptation of practice to new
contexts. It is not always clear, though, exactly what is intended by this term,
how it is being used by different writers, and even whether this term provides
the most helpful theological support for this on-going discussion.
163
Davison, & Milbank, For the Parish, e.g. p.144.
37
A significant influence on missional thinking and inculturation is Sanneh. He
introduces the word 'translation' to describe the process of taking the basis of
the gospel message and communicating it in a different culture.
164
Sanneh’s
work had a direct influence on the missional approach of Mission-shaped
Church. The report uses Sanneh’s concept of translation to support their
argument to inculturate church,
165
linking it with the idea of incarnation,
although they are careful to state that the incarnation of Christ was a unique
event.
166
It is not only the Mission-shaped Church report that has been influenced by
Sanneh’s thinking. Kirk, for example, also makes use of Sanneh’s concept of
translation. He argues that the gospel is ‘always culturally mediated’,
167
but
that ‘there has to be a clear core whose meaning, though expressed in
different ways, does not change in substance.’
168
This is clearly similar to the
idea expressed in Mission-shaped Church about extracting the nature of
church and placing it in a new context. Kirk describes this process of culturally
mediating a stable core as similar to ‘dynamic equivalence’ from the study of
linguistics. The benefits of this process, he argues, are that it is designed to
guarantee both faithfulness to the original meaning, and thus ‘guard the
integrity of the text against deformation, and appropriateness to a particular
situation.’
169
It is important to note that Kirk does not like the term
‘inculturation’, as he argues that simply seeking the culturally appropriate
words to translate from one language into another can result in a lack of
cultural critique. He argues instead that contextualisation is a better term
because it includes a more critical stance towards culture.
170
This reflects the
influence of liberation theology on his thinking, with an emphasis on
164
L. Sanneh Translating the Message: The Missionary Impact on Culture, (Maryknoll, New
York: Orbis Books, 1989).
165
Mission-shaped Church, p. 89.
166
Mission-shaped Church, p. 87.
167
J. A. Kirk, What is Mission?: Theological Explorations, (London: Darton, Longman & Todd,
1999) p. 75.
168
Kirk, What is Mission?, p. 83.
169
J. A. Kirk, Mission under Scrutiny: Confronting Current Challenges, (London: Darton,
Longman & Todd, 2006) p. 88.
170
Kirk, What is Mission?, pp. 90-91.
38
challenging injustice. A lack of cultural critique is borne out in concerns raised
by Webber. He criticises the way in which some modern-day church practices
can encourage contemporary, therapeutic, privatised worship
171
which clearly
reflects a more self-focused modern society, highlighting the need to avoid
capitulating to the negative aspects of contemporary culture. Other scholars
also raise concerns about the potential lack of cultural critique in
contemporary liturgical services.
172
Walls, briefly notes Sanneh but does not directly build on his work. Instead,
he approaches the question of inculturation through describing an alien
coming infrequently to earth, noticing the similarities and dissimilarities in
Christian communities, and then emphasising those aspects that have
remained constant throughout.
173
He then uses this principle to examine
different phases of Christian history. Walls’ approach is subsequently picked
up and extended by Bevans and Schroeder.
174
Whilst this approach is helpful
in noting the similarities and points of continuity between vastly different
examples of practice, neither Walls, nor Bevans and Schroeder, explore the
points of transition between the different segments of historical practice that
they describe. As such, their potential contribution to this discussion, which is
located specifically at a point of transition and change, is limited.
There are two important concerns that arise out of the use of inculturation.
First, as Kirk raises, is the question of whether there is room for cultural
critique as part of a process of inculturation, given that its primary purpose is
to take the essence of something and clothe it in the new culture’s apparel. A
more significant problem, however, is the lack of space for innovation.
Inculturation has been described as taking what is already known into a new
171
R. E. Webber, Ancient-Future Worship: Proclaiming and Enacting God's Narrative, (Grand
Rapids, Michigan: Baker Books, 2008) p. 151.
172
See for example D. Rienstra & R. Rienstra Worship Words: Discipling Language for Faithful
Ministry, (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Academic, 2009) p. 191; G. Wainwright, ‘The
language of Worship’ in The Study of Liturgy, revd. edn. ed. C. Jones, G. Wainwright, E.
Yarnold S. J. & P. Bradshaw (London: SPCK, 1992) p. 525.
173
A. F. Walls, The Missionary Movement in Christian History: Studies in the Transmission of
Faith, (New York, New York: Orbis | Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1996) pp. 3-9.
174
S. B. Bevans, & R. P. Schroeder Constants in Context: A Theology of Mission, (Maryknoll,
New York: Orbis Books, 2004).
39
setting: there is no space provided for innovation in the context and this is
crucial for liturgical adaptation.
An example of the need for space for innovation arises out of comments
about the two initial attempts at modernising Anglican liturgy, ‘First Series’
and ‘Second Series’ from the preparatory material for the 1968 Lambeth
Conference.
Much more radical criticism is concerned with the relevance to
modern congregations of the ‘office’ type of liturgical worship.
Desires have been expressed for a non-sacramental Sunday service
that would be very much freer, even at the cost of jettisoning much
traditional material, for example regular use of the Psalms, the New
Testament Canticles, unvarying use of the Apostles’ Creed, etc.
175
This articulates an important desire to bring in more significant liturgical
reform, rather than just adjusting the edges. In other words, it is not simply
about changing some of the language to make it more understandable, but is
about acknowledging different needs and then seeking to provide liturgy that
will facilitate this. This points to more creative change, than simply
translation. What is needed is a paradigm that can both incorporate the ideas
of inculturation but crucially provide space for innovation as well.
Conclusion to the importance of liturgy to Anglican identity
It is clear from this exploration of liturgical practice and development in the
Church of England, and including the brief comments about Early Church
practices, that liturgy cannot be understood as a constant, unchanging
acultural phenomenon. There is no one point of Anglican history that can be
looked to as being the point of ‘definitive Anglicanism’,
176
but rather there has
been a continual process of liturgical development. It is clear that there are
those, and For the Parish is representative of this view, that want to maintain
a transcendent, ahistorical church culture and liturgy. They argue strongly
that attempting cultural liturgical adaptation is to remove this inherent
175
Lambeth Conference, Lambeth Conference, 1968: Preparatory Information, (London: SPCK,
1968) p. 37.
176
Avis, The Identity of Anglicanism, p. 160.
40
abstracted and otherworldly quality. Some of this desire, as Davies explored,
was to hold on to something ‘numinous’ within a liturgical setting. As his
work revealed, however, these comments were based on subjective, personal
opinion and as such it is difficult to assume that others, without the same
background and experiences, would react in the same way to particular
words, phrases and concepts. The argument against change, however, does
not pay sufficient attention to the realities of liturgical history and therefore
to argue against change is, in effect, to argue against the continuation of the
historical journey of Anglican liturgy.
It is important to stress that the purpose of this survey of liturgical history is
not to propose permission for anyone to do anything, anywhere. It is
important to remember the clear and vital link that exists between Anglican
liturgy and its doctrine, as set out above. Rather, in terms of the discussion of
fresh expressions of church in an Anglican context, what is required is a
liturgical paradigm that can hold together both continuity with existing
community identity, and adaptation to new contexts. It is also crucial that,
arising from the reflection on ‘inculturation’, any such model includes
innovation.
A liturgical response to the deadlock
The on-going discussions about fresh expressions of church in an Anglican
context have been conducted on the one hand by appeals to tradition, and on
the other by appeals to missional imperatives seeking to adapt practice to the
changing context of contemporary society. Primary use of ecclesiology as a
theological method has revealed a lack of understanding of Anglican
ecclesiology, in that there have been significant omissions of discussions of
liturgy, despite the emphasis placed on liturgy and worship as defining
Anglican ecclesiological characteristics. An analysis of the history of
development of Anglican liturgy clearly shows continual development and
41
adaptation to context, which has much to offer to this particular discussion.
Given the predominance of the ecclesiological approach and the fact that this
has created a deadlock between the different parties involved, it is vital for a
new method and approach to this question to be developed in order to
reinvigorate the discussion and draw people together. A liturgical approach
to this debate becomes a clear option, and one that is reflective of the very
nature of Anglican self-understanding. The levels of adaptation to context
that have been observed should make this type of methodology attractive to
those arguing for change, whilst at the same time Anglican liturgy connects
the church to its history, making it attractive to those arguing for continuity of
practice. A liturgical paradigm of continuity, adaptation and innovation can
therefore hold the key to unlocking the deadlock in this debate.
A surprising omission in the work on both sides of this debate so far has been
any sustained and rigorous engagement with the Bible. Certain biblical
passages have been used to support certain lines of argument, for example
those in favour of fresh expressions of church have made some use of Acts.
177
The use of scripture has remained somewhat limited however, with
infrequent reference to in-depth scholarship, resulting in a reliance on mainly
simplified or surface level readings of texts. This point is noted by Davison
and Milbank in their conclusion, where they argue for the need for more
thorough biblical work to be done in this field.
178
For such an important
discussion in the Anglican church, this omission is surprising, given that
Anglican theological method, as argued for and defended by significant
Anglican theologians such as Hooker and Maurice, has long been built upon
the three aspects of scripture, tradition and reason.
179
Anglicanism has a
strong heritage and tradition of working through its doctrine with these three
177
See for example, Mission-Shaped Church, pp. 89-90, 94; M. Moynagh, ‘Do we Need a
Mixed Economy?’ in ed. L. Nelstrop & M. Percy, Evaluating Fresh Expressions: Explorations in
Emerging Church, (Norwich: Canterbury Press, 2008) pp. 177-86.
178
Davison, & Milbank, For the Parish, pp. 229-230.
179
S. W. Sykes, The Integrity of Anglicanism, (London & Oxford, Mowbrays, 1978) p. 63.
42
strands, the church in historical continuity,
180
Scripture, as an influence from
the Reformation,
181
and reason as an appeal to scholarly enquiry.
182
It is
apparent that the discussion of fresh expressions of church in an Anglican
context has been conducted, up to now, almost entirely in the fields of
doctrine, in terms of the ecclesiological work as described above, and reason,
in terms of the reflections and explorations produced for this on-going
debate. It is now vital that scripture is brought into this discussion, especially
given the current failure of other approaches to bring both sides together.
Given the importance of both liturgy and scripture to the Anglican Church, a
method that draws both together would have a lot to contribute. A
scripturally based model that could demonstrate continuity with tradition,
adaptation to context and innovation could break the impasse and provide a
means for sustained conversations and listening.
Deuteronomy as a text of formation and transition
As mentioned above, several writers in this field have referred to Acts in their
writings and, given the pursuance of an ecclesiological methodology it is not a
surprise that, in seeking some sort of scriptural support, this has become a
particular text of choice. The debate as has been described above, however,
is not primarily to do with ecclesiology, but rather to do with community
identity, continuity and change. Whilst the book of Acts is clearly set at a
point of great change and adaptation, which would be appropriate for some
of the needs of this discussion, the text articulates the transition from a faith
community moving from ‘pre’ to ‘post’ Messiah, and to the inclusion of
Gentiles into the worshipping community. Although the Church of England is
rightly addressing its need to reach out to different sub-cultures within the
country, amongst other missional imperatives, this cannot be seen in the
same light as the dramatic changes as seen in Acts. What would be more
180
P. Avis, The Anglican Understanding of the Church: An Introduction, (London: SPCK, 2000)
p. 33
181
Avis, The Anglican Understanding of the Church, p. 36.
182
Avis, The Anglican Understanding of the Church, p. 40.
43
appropriate, is a text that shows the same community of faith maintaining the
same basic theology and identity but at a point where the context in which
they found themselves was changing dramatically. One such obvious choice
of text is Deuteronomy. The narrative context of the book is at a point of
dramatic and significant change and transition for the faith community, as
they move from being a nomadic community to settling in the Promised Land.
Yet the book does not simply restate all that has gone before, but, in response
to the changing context, it adapts and reframes traditions, at points
demonstrating radical innovation as well, whilst simultaneously maintaining
the long-standing traditional identity of Israel. Deuteronomy is also described
as being liturgical by numerous scholars and this will be important to examine
in detail in the following chapters. Given that liturgy has been highlighted as
the primary method for this contribution, a liturgical reading of Deuteronomy
that highlights issues of continuity, adaptation and innovation in order to
provide a paradigm for the contemporary setting would be profoundly
significant.
This is not the first time that it has been proposed that Deuteronomy could
provide a resource for contemporary theological concerns. In 1977, Lohfink
produced a short but important article arguing that the deuteronomic law
could function as an example for approaching theology in the light of
contemporary cultural and social issues challenging the Roman Catholic
Church at that time.
183
Lohfink frames his discussion of the deuteronomic law
code by positioning it within a context of the dominance and then waning
influence of the Assyrians and the treaty that the people of Israel made with
them. Whilst noting that Lohfink’s time-frame for the text is not the only
perspective amongst wider scholarship, what is significant here is the
connection that Lohfink draws between the response found in the
183
N. Lohfink, ‘Culture Shock and Theology’ trans. R. Kugelman in Biblical Theology Bulletin
Vol. VII, no. 1 Jan 1977, pp. 12-21.
44
deuteronomic law code to external powers and pressures and the
contemporary church situation.
Lohfink states that external societal pressure brought the Roman Catholic
church to a point of crisis by the 1970s and that examining the way in which
Deuteronomy presents a response to external pressures provides an
important model. He argues that Israel responded to the crisis of external
pressure theologically, but not in a way that simply repeated the truth of the
existing tradition or that created something completely new.
A theologian is not worth much, if he only produces a true theology.
Then one would have remained with the old Yahwist book and no new
book of Deuteronomy would have been composed. Much depends on
this: the theology besides being true must fulfil its function in the
crisis. It is correct only if it knows how to make the traditional
worldview attractive once again. Deuteronomy shows us the paths
that led to this. It has through systematization, made the bewildering
abundance of the traditional institutions and their related theories
once again intelligent and understandable. In doing this it has not
shrunk from using supporting elements of the competing worldview.
In integrating them it has transformed them but now they are there
and no one would have to abandon his own traditions if he also
wanted to integrate what was present in his own day.
184
At the end of his article, Lohfink returns to his original question of the slow
response of the Roman Catholic Church to the developing pluralism in the
Western World. He argues that the example from his work on Deuteronomy
shows that the response to the changing worldview was not simply to
reproduce ‘a true theology’, but rather that ‘the theology besides being true
must fulfil its function in the crisis. It is correct only if it knows how to make
the traditional worldview attractive once again.’
185
Lohfink’s article
articulates a connection between the adaptive practices of Deuteronomy and
the contribution a study of these can make to a real-time question about the
184
Lohfink, ‘Culture Shock and Theology’, p. 21.
185
Lohfink, ‘Culture Shock and Theology’, p. 21.
45
relationship between the contemporary church and the challenges of the
world-views around it.
Lohfink is addressing the impact of societal change upon the Roman Catholic
Church and the slowness of the Church’s response to these dramatic changes.
The focus of this study is on the specific question of change and adaptation of
practice in the context of fresh expressions of church in Anglican settings.
This is in many ways different from the more general questions to which
Lohfink is responding. But at the same time there is clear common ground
between the two in terms of recognising the changes in the society where the
church finds itself, and the degree to which these changes should affect
practice and theology. Lohfink’s approach to the question and the way he
argues that Deuteronomy demonstrates a way to ‘think anew and formulate
anew the traditions’
186
shows that there is something within the adaptive
nature of Deuteronomy that means it has something to contribute to this
particular, focused debate. He raises the possibility of using Deuteronomy in
a response to contemporary societal changes, but in a relatively short article,
only 10 pages, is limited to the extent in which he can explore this in detail.
Although he clearly begins some interesting work in this area, he does not
have the space to explore this more fully, nor to go beyond his chosen
limitation of the exploring only the deuteronomic law code.
A liturgical hermeneutic
In order to undertake a liturgical reading of Deuteronomy it is necessary to
develop an appropriate liturgical hermeneutic. To achieve this, the work of
Gittoes will be used to provide the basis for this hermeneutic. Gittoes is
appropriate to use for this particular research as she locates her discussion of
anamnesis and Eucharistic theology firmly within the wider discussion of fresh
expressions of church within the Church of England and as a response to
Mission-shaped Church.
187
Although she does not cite For the Parish directly
186
Lohfink, ‘Culture Shock and Theology’, p. 21.
187
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist.
46
in this text, she does provide an analysis and critique of the work of Pickstock,
who demonstrates similarities to the theology and perspective of Davison and
Milbank.
‘Anamnesis and the Eucharist’
Gittoes’ discussion of anamnesis and the Eucharist is rooted in an Anglican
understanding of liturgy and ecclesiology. She contributes significantly to the
on-going discussion of fresh expressions of church and highlights how
Mission-shaped Church does not address the important connection between
participation in the Eucharist and God's mission.
188
In her conclusion she
draws attention to the need for further exploration of the relationship
between Eucharist and mission, citing the way mission is often separated in
theological dialogue from ‘ecclesiology, the sacraments and the place of
pastoral care.’
189
She acknowledges from the beginning that there are
significant aspects such as the role of the Spirit (epiclesis), priesthood, and
ministry that are beyond the scope of her particular focus.
190
Gittoes sees anamnesis as a ‘transformative encounter’,
191
which connects
the church to ‘Christ’s life, death and resurrection’
192
and, at the same time,
draws it into mission and ultimately ‘fulfilment at the eschaton.’
193
This
connection between anamnesis and mission is vital to the book and
significant for the contribution she is making to the wider debate, as is the
attention that she gives to how the past event, the present celebration and
the future fulfilment are drawn together. Gittoes argues extensively that the
church is formed and shaped through anamnesis, that corporate and
individual identities are transformed through both remembering and
188
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, p. 143.
189
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, pp. 147-8.
190
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, p. 4.
191
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, p. 2.
192
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, p. 2.
193
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, p. 2.
47
anticipating.
194
There is an active connecting with and participating in the
story of redemption that shapes the people for participation and mission.
195
Two particular terms, source event and connection, are vital for
understanding her approach to this subject and the direction that she takes
through the material she engages with. The first significant phrase, ‘source
event’, she uses to refer to the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. In
discussing Rowan Williams, one of three theologians that she engages with in
depth, Gittoes highlights how Williams draws out each believer’s own
complicity within the source event. This is not about a simple, historic
remembrance, but by anamnesis they are brought to the point of betrayal,
vulnerability and failure, which through the cross and resurrection is
transformed into discipleship, and through becoming the Body of Christ are
enabled to participate in mission.
196
The second, ‘connection’, is the term Gittoes chooses for describing the inter-
related nature of ‘the historical, sacramental and ecclesial embodiments of
resurrection’.
197
She also uses this term to articulate how the Eucharistic
anamnesis transforms the church, corporately and individually, in the present,
including mission and service, and into anticipation of the future.
198
She
supports this understanding by drawing a connection of encounter and
transformation through the narrative of the Emmaus road, Luke 24. She
argues that though the disciples’ encounter Jesus at the point of confusion, he
is recognised by them as he breaks bread, and this transforms them. They
return to Jerusalem and as they share with the other disciples, the Body of
Christ is strengthened, ‘there the Church comes into being and begins to
engage in mission.’
199
She emphasises that the narrative does not finish at
the point of breaking bread, but it continues, because the encounter has an
194
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, p. 1.
195
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, pp. 1-2.
196
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, p. 112.
197
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, p. 3.
198
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, p. 3.
199
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, p. 149.
48
effect, remembrance, encounter and transformation.
200
This narrative
becomes the governing story for her study. It is the only biblical material that
she overtly engages with, but it remains very much a surface level reading.
Gittoes is not a biblical scholar and, other than the limited use of Luke 24,
does not make any sustained use of scripture in her book. What she does
offer, however, are three vital characteristics of liturgy that can be used to
form a liturgical hermeneutic for engaging with Deuteronomy. These three
characteristics are the connection of the community to their source event
through anamnesis; the way in which liturgy collapses time, described by
Gittoes as the connection between the past event, present celebration and
future fulfilment; and the significant connection between Eucharist and
mission. Each of these characteristics will be explored further below.
Anamnesis
Through the book, Gittoes explores both the use of the term anamnesis and
its potential contribution to broader ecumenical discussions. She does this by
engaging with the ‘Anglican-Roman Catholic International Commission
(ARCIC)’ and the World Council of Churches Faith and Order Paper, ‘Baptism,
Eucharist and Ministry (BEM)’.
The official Church of England written response to BEM and ARCIC, she
argues, shows that anamnesis can hold together the past, present, future
aspects of the Eucharist, which supports her argument. Her own reflection on
ARCIC and BEM is that the use of anamnesis has allowed for a movement
towards greater ecumenical understanding.
201
Significantly, for the purposes
of discussions about fresh expressions of church, in summarising the ARCIC
document ‘God's gift of authority’, Gittoes draws attention to how the report
shows that authority and tradition are encountered in the localised, rooted
200
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, p. 149.
201
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, p. 16.
49
community. She also highlights the importance that tradition is ‘re-received’
and actualised afresh in new contexts.
202
As she begins to analyse how other scholars have made use of the term, three
things emerge as significant. First the extent to which anamnesis is church-
forming; second how it is seen to hold together the past, present and future;
and third how anamnesis brings about transformation. She argues strongly
that there are significant benefits in not seeking to restrict the definition, as
this enables the discovery of new insights from ecumenical and historical
explorations. She describes such a move as ‘essential in exploring further the
transformative and missiological dimensions of anamnesis.’
203
Whilst there
are potential dangers in working with a more open definition of such a
significant word, this approach does allow Gittoes to undertake the
exploratory work that she sets out to do.
Gittoes, building on Welker’s understanding of cultural memory, reiterates
that it is vital to see anamnesis as a purposeful activity. It is effective not just
in ‘establishing bonds of identity and community, but also in forming a
community equipped by the Spirit to engage in loving service and missionary
activity.’
204
She focuses particularly on two terms that Welker uses, the idea
of a ‘cold’ cultural memory, which ‘can potentially stabilise a community
against transformation’, and a ‘hot’ cultural memory which enables
communities to engage with development.
205
Gittoes also borrows from Begbie, who explores the links between theology
and music, picking up on the phrase ‘non-identical repetition’, showing how
repetition can both stabilise and destabilise. Gittoes, from Begbie, makes the
point that in terms of church practice there can be two extremes, one of
202
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, p. 20.
203
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, p. 14.
204
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, p. 24.
205
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, pp. 24-25. See M. Welker, What Happens in Holy
Communion?, trans. J. F. Hoffmeyer (Grand Rapids, Michigan | Cambridge: Eerdmans, 2000)
pp. 126-133; see also J. Assman, Cultural Memory and Early Civilization: Writing,
Remembrance, and Political Imagination, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011) pp.
50-53.
50
endless repetition which can become mostly empty, and the other seeking
novelty above everything else. Both of these fail to hold on to the
combination of the stabilising and destabilising effect.
206
In her conclusion,
Gittoes returns to this idea of ‘non-identical repetition’ to describe the way in
which the Eucharist continues to be the point of encounter at the moment of
betrayal and healing, and that because of this continued transformation the
‘Eucharist is repeated, but also unrepeatable.’
207
What Gittoes does not draw
out explicitly from this, which is a surprise given the missional setting of the
book, is how this term could also be used to support the contextualisation of
liturgical worship. In other words, emphasising the idea that the aim of the
Eucharist is not to repeat it identically, opens the possibility for anamnesis to
reflect the locality.
A wider understanding of Anamnesis
Given the significance of this term for Gittoes, it is useful to show that
Gittoes’ understanding of the term is coherent with wider liturgical
scholarship.
As a specific liturgical term, anamnesis ‘signifies that part of the anaphora in
which it is explicitly stated that the church is offering the bread and cup with
this meaning and for this purpose, in obedience to Christ’s command so to
do.’
208
But the term carries something much broader and more significant
than a simple liturgical moment. As Bishop argues, worship in general arises
out of this idea of remembering, and remembering God’s action in human
history.
209
Like Gittoes, von Allman highlights the way in which anamnesis is
an active remembering that makes the past event a present reality.
210
Ladrière explores the way liturgical language functions as more than simple
repetition or a mere act of remembering from the perspective of linguistic
206
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, p. 28.
207
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, p. 146.
208
W. J. Grisbrooke, ‘Anaphora’ in ed. Davies, J. G. A New Dictionary of Liturgy and Worship,
(London: SCM Press, 1986), p. 18.
209
Bishop, ‘Worship’, p. 1331.
210
J.-J. von Allmen, Worship: Its Theology and Practice, (London: Lutterworth, 1965) p. 34.
51
analysis. The specific use of liturgical language, he argues, means that
recalling past events and repeating them makes them real for the present.
211
He goes on to add that this is not just ‘a mere quotation but the resumption
into acts of today of words written or spoken at a given moment in the
past.’
212
In other words, this is not simple commemoration but a bringing into
the present the realities of the events themselves.
213
In writing from a Roman
Catholic perspective, he particularly emphasises the role of the ‘celebrant’ in
the way liturgical language brings about an affect. For example, the celebrant
‘repeats once again that which Christ did, in giving again to the words which
Christ used that efficacy which Christ gave them, in conferring on them again
the power to do what they mean.’
214
Even acknowledging this potential point
of difference between his and a more reformed position does not reduce the
significance of his thinking for this study. For example, exploring the way in
which language and an individual’s attitude relate in liturgy.
‘Liturgical language uses certain characteristic performative verbs,
such as “to ask”, “to pray”, “to give thanks”. Such verbs express
illocutionary acts presupposing certain attitudes: trust, veneration,
gratitude, submission, contrition, and so on. These attitudes come
into effect at the very moment when, by virtue of the enunciation of
the sentence, the corresponding act takes place. The preformative
verb is not a description of the attitude which its enunciation
presupposes; its function is not to indicate the existence of this
attitude, but it, so to speak, the attitude itself: it makes it exist in an
effective manner by virtue of the illocutionary act underlying its
enunciation.’
215
He also argues that a specific aspect of liturgical language brings about a
linking together of past, present and future.
216
In other words, while calling
to mind the past event in the present, the congregation is at the same time
211
J. Ladrière, ‘The Performativity of Liturgical Language’ trans J. Griffiths in ed. H. Schmidt &
D. Power, Liturgical Experience of Faith, (New York, New York: Herder & Herder, 1973) p. 60.
212
Ladrière, ‘The Performativity of Liturgical Language’ p. 60.
213
D. Hilborn, ‘From Performativity to Pedagogy: Jean Ladrière and the Pragmatics of
Reformed Worship Dialogue’, in ed. S. E. Porter, The Nature of Religious Language: A
Colloquium, (Sheffield: Sheffield University Press, 1996), p. 176.
214
Ladrière, ‘The Performativity of Liturgical Language’ p. 61.
215
Ladrière, ‘The Performativity of Liturgical Language’ p. 57.
216
Ladrière, ‘The Performativity of Liturgical Language’ p. 61.
52
looking towards that which is being waited for.
217
This relates directly to the
second liturgical strand, that of the liturgical collapse of time where past,
present and future and drawn together.
A further important point for this particular study is Ladrière’s reflections on
the way in which liturgical language has the ability to form community.
218
One way in which this takes place is through the way that liturgical language
‘makes especial use of “us” and “thou”. The plural form, in “me” and “us”,
indicates that there is a number of speakers, but that they are acting
collectively, as if there were only one speaker.’
219
This he describes as ‘the
second kind of performativity of liturgical language: institution’
220
and it is this
use of language that creates community. This is particularly important to
show that not only can liturgy provide a theological framework for on-going
discussions, but can help to create and form new worshipping communities in
practice.
It is important to note, as Grisbrooke does, that the English term
‘remembering’ does not fully capture the whole sense and meaning of the
word anamnesis. He helpfully contrasts the difference between the English
words like remembrance that suggest recalling something that is ‘past and
absent’
221
and what he describes as a Greek word that is trying to capture a
Semitic concept that ‘is an objective act, in and by which the person or event
commemorated is actually made present, is brought into the realm of the
here and now.’
222
It is helpful to note the Hebraic roots of the concept of
anamnesis. Von Allman makes a useful connection from this liturgical
understanding of remembering to the Hebrew root . The word
‘ὰναμνησις occurs five times in the LXX, in Lv 247 where it represents the
Hebrew , in Nu 1010, where it translates , in Ps 381 and 701, where
217
Hilborn, ‘From Performativity to Pedagogy’, p. 177.
218
Ladrière, ‘The Performativity of Liturgical Language’ pp. 58-59.
219
Ladrière, ‘The Performativity of Liturgical Language’ p. 57.
220
Ladrière, ‘The Performativity of Liturgical Language’ p. 57.
221
Grisbrooke, ‘Anaphora’ p. 18.
222
Grisbrooke, ‘Anaphora’, p. 18.
53
it renders the hiphil of the verb , and in Wis 166.’
223
Similarly to the points
noted here in the definition of anamnesis, the word is about more than
simply bringing something to mind, but includes a sense of action as well.
Compare the Hebrew verb which always means so much more
than merely “to hear”, the implication being always “hear and do”,
“hearken”. So in the same way has the sense of “remember and
do”.
224
This is also mentioned by Rienstra and Rienstra who similarly make the
connection between Christian remembering in worship and the importance
for the Israelites of remembering their story.
225
They support this assertion
by highlighting that the Israelites were called to remember their own story of
rescue from slavery and to remember how their law both protects and
provides identity. They also emphasise the way that remembering was
conducted through acts of worship.
226
This demonstrates the depth and significance of this particular word, and that
there is a direct connection between the contemporary understanding of the
liturgical use of the word anamnesis and some of the worship practices that
are articulated within the Old Testament texts.
Liturgical collapse of time
The second of the liturgical characteristics drawn from Gittoes’ work is a
liturgical collapse of time. This indicates the way in which an aspect of the
function of liturgy is to make both the past a present reality, whilst
simultaneously also recognising the present reality of the promises that God
has made about the future. Gittoes describes this in a way that shows the
close relationship between this strand and the first, in that the ‘sacramental
act of anamnesis draws the Church into a transformative encounter with the
risen Christ in the present. This occurs within the context of retrospection
223
H. M. Sykes, ‘The Eucharist as Anamnesis’ ExpT 71 (1960), p. 115.
224
Sykes, ‘The Eucharist as Anamnesis’, p. 116.
225
Rienstra & Rienstra Worship Words, p. 76.
226
Rienstra & Rienstra Worship Words, p. 76.
54
and anticipation.’
227
She goes on to add that it is the word anamnesis itself
that designates ‘the connection between past and future in the present’.
228
There are clear connections between this characteristic and that of
anamnesis, because, as has been discussed above, the concepts of anamnesis
‘carries with it a sense of making the past present.’
229
But this point is more
than active remembering, but articulating the way in which liturgy collapses
the distinctions between past event, present and future.
230
Or, as Irvine
describes it, time is condensed ‘in the kairos, the moment of God's acting in
and through the Spirit, in and through the occasion of worship.’
231
Worship and mission
The third liturgical characteristic is the strong connection that Gittoes makes
between the Eucharist and mission. As her work draws towards the
conclusion, Gittoes argues that the ‘Eucharist is Church-generative, and
therefore demands attention to explicitly missiological issues.’
232
She expands
this by going on to argue that this means the church is to be engaged ‘with
the complexity and particularities of life.’
233
This, she argues earlier, is
because the church is transformed through Eucharistic encounter and that
therefore the ‘effects of such transformative encounter are discerned in
terms of mission, service and engagement with the social political issues of
the world.’
234
In other words, a Eucharistic celebration can never simply be
an internalised and complete action, it leads to transformation of the
individual and the corporate gathered community, who then live out this
transformation in the world.
Other liturgical scholars also demonstrate a vital connection with the
importance of mission, although the connection is sometimes widened to
227
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, p. 2.
228
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, p. 3.
229
Spinks, Do This in Remembrance of Me, p. 20.
230
von Allmen, Worship: Its Theology and Practice, pp. 34-5.
231
Irvine, The Art of God, p. 134.
232
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, p. 146.
233
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, p. 146.
234
Gittoes, Anamnesis and the Eucharist, p. 3.
55
include the idea of worship more broadly rather than Gittoes’ understandable
but more narrow focus on the Eucharist.
235
This broadening out of the
connection is obviously helpful in terms of making links with worship in the
Old Testament, as a direct parallel with the Eucharist would be inappropriate.
It is clear, however, that this connection between worship and how
individuals and communities of faith lived out their lives is very important,
seen in both the early church communities and, importantly, in the Old
Testament.
From the Hebrew prophets through Augustine of Hippo we have
repeatedly seen this kind of concern for the verification of worship in
the very lives of the communities who offer it. Whether the prophetic
critique of Amos, the words of ritual critique and reform addressed to
early Christian meal fellowships by the gospel and other New
Testament writers, catechumenal formation, liturgical homilies, or
developments in the concept of the Eucharist as the sacrifice of Christ
and the church, the concern that Christians live according to how they
worship and believe is, indeed, a consistent concern through the ages.
And a major part of that concern is directed toward the poor, the
widows, the orphans, and the hungry.
236
This liturgical characteristic is not a modern construction, therefore, but
reflects something that was important to the early church communities and
the writers and compilers of the Old and New Testaments. This then shows
that this liturgical characteristic in particular, as part of the liturgical
hermeneutic, is not imposing something foreign onto the Old Testament text,
but is actually picking up themes that have been important first for Israel and
subsequently for the Christian faith communities, and then using this to
reflect back on the text itself.
In terms of ‘mission’ and the Old Testament, I am using Wright’s definition of
‘mission’ in order to avoid an anachronistic and inappropriate reading into the
Old Testament setting. Wright argues that Israel did have a missional role ‘in
235
See for example Avis, The Identity of Anglicanism, p. 104; P. A. Avis, Ministry Shaped by
Mission, (London | New York, New York: T & T Clark, 2005) p. 28; White, Groundwork of
Christian Worship, p. x; Fenwick & Spinks, Worship in Transition, p. 10; Dyrness, A Primer on
Christian Worship, p. 119.
236
M. E. Johnson, Praying and Believing in Early Christianity: The Interplay between Christian
Worship and Doctrine, (Collegeville, Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 2013) p. 126.
56
the midst of the nations’,
237
but he defines this in terms of the purpose and
function, rather than proselytising. Wright’s missional hermeneutic stresses
the involvement of the people of God and the holistic inclusion of both the
whole of life and whole of creation.
238
What this means for the connection
with Gittoes’ work, is that from this, the mission of Israel is to be understood
as the ethical and social outworking of the demands of God. Israel are the
people who have been particularly set apart by God for a particular purpose,
as is demonstrated throughout the Old Testament.
Primarily Israel is to serve the marginal in its midst: the orphan, the
widow, the poor, and the stranger. Whenever the people of Israel
renew their covenant with Yahweh, they recognize that they are
renewing their obligations to the victims of society.
239
This understanding can also be found continuing into the New Testament,
where participation in the mission of God means following after Jesus in ‘the
particular form of a servant.’
240
Mission is important for this wider discussion and the concept of Missio Dei is
significant for the work that has developed in terms of fresh expressions of
church. The focus of this study is not mission per se but rather providing a
liturgical framework in order to provide a means of communication between
the two sides of this on-going discussion. Despite this, it is still important to
set out the understanding of mission that is used for this study and also how
liturgy is being understood as functioning missionally. This will also be
important in the final chapter when the work developed from the detailed
textual study will be brought back to the initial thesis question in order to
237
C. J. H. Wright, ‘Mission as a Matrix for Hermeneutics and Biblical Theology’ in ed. C.
Bartholomew, M. Healy, K. Möller and R. Parry, Out of Egypt: Biblical Theology and Biblical
Interpretation, Scripture and Hermeneutic Series (Milton Keynes: Paternoster Press | Grand
Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan, 2004) p. 106.
238
Wright, ‘Mission as a matrix’, p. 137.
239
D. J. Bosch, Transforming Mission: Paradigm Shifts in Theology of Mission, (Maryknoll,
New York: Orbis Books, 1991) p. 18.
240
J. G. Flett, The Witness of God: The Trinity, Missio Dei, Karl Barth, and the Nature of
Christian Community, (Grand Rapids, Michigan | Cambridge: Eerdmans, 2010) p. 197.
57
begin to demonstrate how the liturgical work can begin to contribute in real
and practical ways.
A particularly significant writer on missio Dei is Bosch. He argues in a
consistent and detailed way that challenges the then predominant
understanding of mission as something that the church ‘does’. In countering
this assumption, he instead roots the basis of missio Dei into a significant
theological understanding of the nature of God.
241
Mission, he argues, flows
out of ‘God’s self-revelation as the One who loves the world, God’s
involvement in and with the world, the nature and activity of God’.
242
It is
into God’s mission that the ‘church is privileged to participate.’
243
Mission
then becomes the ‘very nature’
244
of Christianity and to participate in mission
is to participate in the movement of God’s love toward people, since God is a
fountain of sending love.’
245
All of this, Bosch argues convincingly, means that
mission cannot be an added extra in the life of the church. In light of his
work, ‘any account of Christianity in which missions are understood to be
something the church does after she has become settled in a place and time
cannot help but be an unfaithful account of the gospel.’
246
Bosch’s arguments are picked up and reflected upon by a number of scholars
subsequently. One of whom, Flett, continues this argument that mission
stems out of the very nature and being of who the church is, as he argues, it is
not an act an otherwise constituted church may or may not choose to
perform.’
247
He goes on to add that
Concrete, active, intentional missionary existence is no second step
alongside fellowship with God. It is not a task the community may or
may not choose to perform. If the community abandons her task, she
ceases to be the Christian community, for she is then guilty of
241
Bosch, Transforming Mission, p. 390.
242
Bosch, Transforming Mission, p. 10.
243
Bosch, Transforming Mission, p. 10.
244
Bosch, Transforming Mission, pp. 8-9.
245
Bosch, Transforming Mission, p. 390.
246
S. Hauerwas, ‘Beyond the Boundaries: The Church is Mission’ in ed. V. Mortensen & A. O
Nielsen, Walk Humbly with the Lord: Church and Mission Engaging Plurality (Grand Rapids,
Michigan | Cambridge: Eerdmans, 2010) p. 55.
247
Flett, The Witness of God, p. 204.
58
withdrawing from the history of God’s own fellowship. Mission occurs
when God encounters humanity, calling, upbuilding, and sending his
community in the humanity proper to her, compelling and enabling
her by the Spirit to transcend her self-occupation and to participate in
Jesus Christ’s prophetic work.
248
Importantly, this understanding of mission does not mean that liturgy and the
church community need to be neglected or side-lined in order to focus on
‘doing’ mission ‘out there’. It is a more traditional understanding of ‘mission’
that has created unnecessary competition between the ‘church’ and the
‘world’ in the past. This is turn neglects the role of the church in the plan of
salvation which is, as mentioned above, a criticism by Davison and Milbank of
Mission-Shaped Church. Tracing the development of Missio Dei through the
Bible reveals that ‘God’s mission in the world is the formation of a people’.
249
Or, as Hauerwas describes it, believing in the cross and resurrection ‘requires
being made a participant in a community whose existence depends on the
miracle of the resurrection.’
250
It is important to hold in mind that, as Bosch
argues, this does not mean that the church then becomes the goal of mission
or the starting point, but both ‘church’ and ‘mission’ find their place within
the wider concept of missio Dei.
251
What this then means for the purposes of
this particular study is picking up on the twin themes of participation and
service. Participation in terms of joining in and being formed as part of the
people of God, and service in terms of the outworking of participation in the
mission of God.
Interestingly, for the purposes of this particular piece of work, Bosch also
argues that to relegate worship to a final place is to overlook a vital aspect of
what mission actually is.
248
Flett, The Witness of God, p. 284.
249
B. Stone, ‘The Ecclesiality of Mission in the Context of Empire’ in ed. V. Mortensen & A. O.
Nielsen, Walk Humbly with the Lord: Church and Mission Engaging Plurality (Grand Rapids,
Michigan | Cambridge: Eerdmans, 2010) p. 108.
250
Hauerwas, ‘Beyond the Boundaries’, p. 61.
251
Bosch, Transforming Mission, p. 370.
59
The Christian mission is always Christological and pneumatological,
but the New Testament knows of no chrisotology or pneumatology
which is not ecclesial … Mission is moored to the church’s worship, to
its gathering around the Word and the sacraments.
252
In terms of participation and service, the way that liturgy forms the people of
God to be in and part of the mission of God is fundamentally important. As
noted above, Ladrière’s work demonstrates the way in which liturgical
language can create community, forming the people of God. Part of the work
of the final chapter will be drawing out the points of the textual study to
begin to show how liturgy can be used in terms of adaptation and innovation
in fresh expressions of church, and existing models of church, to equip and aid
participation and service.
Conclusion to a liturgical response to the deadlock
This section began by reiterating the need for a liturgical paradigm of
continuity, adaptation and innovation, summarising the work of the previous
section, and highlighting the surprising lack of biblical work in this important
and on-going discussion. Both points were drawn together to argue that a
scriptural model of change demonstrating continuity, adaptation and
innovation would make a significant contribution to this on-going discussion.
Equally, an Old Testament text rather than New Testament is more suitable
because the narrative situation better represents the current situation, given
the importance being placed on maintaining continuity and identity whilst
adapting to different contexts. Further to this, the Old Testament more
clearly represents changes over time, whereas the New Testament is more
like a snapshot of a particular, shorter period. Deuteronomy is an obvious
text, given that its narrative context provides both a text of community
formation and continuity with the past whilst at the same time looking to the
future as a time of change and transition into a different context. The work of
Gittoes, located within this particular discussion, then provides three liturgical
252
Bosch, Transforming Mission, p. 385.
60
characteristics which will be used as a liturgical hermeneutic for reading
Deuteronomy.
Conclusion
This chapter has addressed important questions about the developments
arising from the publication of the Church of England report Mission-shaped
Church and how this has been received, both positively and negatively, within
the Anglican Church in England. Attempts to draw the two parties together
have, thus far, had rather limited success. Approaches that have been based
on ecclesiological methodology have failed to provide a solution to the
deadlock, and there has been fundamental disagreement as to whether a
reductionist ecclesiology is even an appropriate model for the task.
Given the importance of liturgy to Anglican ecclesiology and self-
understanding, it has been surprising that this has been almost entirely
overlooked in this important discussion. A liturgical approach to this on-going
discussion has much to offer to both sides of the debate. For those who are
positive about fresh expressions of church in an Anglican setting, it provides
support for continual and cultural adaptation. For those who are negative
about the changes and developments, it ensures an important connection to
Anglican history and identity. The historical review demonstrated both these
concerns for continuity and adaptation. Comments about issues raised
around the use of the term ‘inculturation’ also highlighted concerns about the
lack of space for both innovation and cultural critique. A liturgical model has
not been explored before now, but it has much to offer in terms of breaking
the current deadlock in providing a paradigm of continuity, adaptation and
innovation.
As set out above, the methodology for the liturgical approach has been taken
from Gittoes, whose own work is very much part of this wider discussion. In
61
the section engaging with Gittoes’ work, it was highlighted that there was a
significant lack of rigorous scriptural work in this field, despite the importance
placed on scripture as one of the three areas that make up the traditional
Anglican approach to theological method. A liturgical reading of scripture,
therefore, in order to provide a paradigm of continuity, adaptation and
innovation is proposed.
253
As stated above, Deuteronomy provides an ideal
text for this work given its communal focus and narrative setting at a point of
major transition and change.
In order to create this liturgical paradigm, Chapter Two will examine the way
in which the terms ‘liturgy’ and ‘liturgical’ have been used in critical
scholarship to describe Deuteronomy, showing that this has been done with a
lack of clear definition and no reference to liturgical scholarship. Having
demonstrated the weaknesses in definition, the liturgical hermeneutic as set
out above, will be used to examine the text and then the chapter will explore
the text for the liturgical characteristics of continuity, adaptation and
innovation.
Chapters Three and Four will use the liturgical hermeneutic to engage with
two chapters of Deuteronomy in detail. The first of these will focus on
Deuteronomy 6 and the second on Deuteronomy 26, both chapters being
chosen due to the frequency with which scholars use the terms ‘liturgical’ and
‘liturgy’ to describe them. They are also representative of different parts of
the overall text, Deut 6 coming from the introductory framework and Deut 26
from the deuteronomic law code. Having used the liturgical hermeneutic, the
text will be explored in detail for the liturgical characteristics of continuity,
adaptation and innovation. Chapter Five will draw together the points raised
through this textual study, particularly in terms of continuity, adaptation and
innovation, in order to bring these back to the initial question of the deadlock
in current discussions of fresh expressions of church in an Anglican context.
253
For further discussion on the use of Old Testament texts as a paradigm for contemporary
ecclesiological questions and issues see C. J. H. Wright, Old Testament Ethics for the People of
God, (Nottingham: IVP, 2004) pp. 65-73, 183-84, 206-09, 320-21.
62
As an important part of this practical outworking of the biblical work, the
liturgical models set out will show how a missional liturgy can equip and
enable participation and service.
63
Chapter two: A liturgical reading
of Deuteronomy
Introduction to Chapter Two
The previous chapter explored the current impasse in discussions of fresh
expressions of church in an Anglican context. The conclusion drawn from this
was that a liturgical rather than an ecclesiological approach could provide an
important paradigm that would be fruitful for ongoing discussion. Up to this
point, however, matters of liturgy and worship had been mostly overlooked in
the literature produced by both sides of the debate. The work of Gittoes was
used, as someone engaged in this area of study, to draw out three strands
which form a liturgical hermeneutic. These three strands are first, the
importance of remembrance, second, a liturgical collapse of time, and third,
the vital connection between worship and mission. Further to this,
Deuteronomy was shown to be an appropriate choice for this study, given its
narrative setting of community adaptation for a changing context.
This chapter, and Chapters Three and Four, will demonstrate the way that the
terms ‘liturgy’ and ‘liturgical’ have been used to describe Deuteronomy in
generally undefined ways. In contrast, the liturgical hermeneutic provides a
clear definition for identifying a text as liturgical and, having taken this
approach to the text, each chapter will then explore the text for the liturgical
characteristics of continuity, adaptation and innovation. The significant
points will then be drawn together in the final chapter in order to form a
paradigm with which to respond to the original question. This current
chapter will look at the text as a whole, highlighting important overarching
themes and key points, before the next two chapters explore first Deut 6 and
then Deut 26 in detail.
64
This study is taking a synchronic approach to the text.
254
This is not to ignore
questions that have been raised by diachronic studies which have made
important contributions to the field, for example addressing previously held
assumptions surrounding issues such as dating, authorship, form, and place of
composition. A synchronic approach, however, focuses on the final text as
more of a unified whole
255
and allows for a reading that is following unity of
thought and expression, rather than seeking to discern points of variance
which may or may not then indicate the presence of different sources. This
approach will draw attention to the text’s structural and stylistic unity and
reveal whether the liturgical features and characteristics cross particular parts
of the text that have been used previously to identify different redactional
layers.
256
Taking this approach is not to deny the presence of underlying sources, but to
recognise the deliberate presentation of the final text and how the sources
have been ‘woven into a complex artistic whole.’
257
As Noble helpfully sets
out, this is not to set synchronic and diachronic approaches against one
another as they should not be viewed as entirely separate methodological
approaches, ‘because each has implications for the text's method of
composition.’
258
The purposes of this study is not an attempt to reconstruct
original sources through detailed textual analysis, ‘as the recovery of these
254
For a brief history of how scholars have developed synchronic approaches to Old
Testament texts see R. Routledge, Old Testament Theology: A Thematic Approach,
(Nottingham: Apollos, 2008) pp. 56-60.
255
B. K. Waltke, An Old Testament Theology: an Exegetical, Canonical, and Thematic
Approach, (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan, 2007) pp. 114-115;
256
For discussion of the use of Numeruswechsel as an approach to discerning redactional
layers see G. Minette de Tillesse 'Sections "tu" et sections "vous" dans le Deutéronome' in VT
12.1 (Leiden:Brill, 1962) pp. 72-73; E. W. Nicholson, Deuteronomy and Tradition, (Oxford:
Blackwell, 1967) pp. 27-8; R. D. Nelson, Deuteronomy, (Louisville, Kentucky: Westminster
John Knox Press, 2002) pp. 3-6; G. von Rad, ‘The Form-Critical Problem of the Hexateuch’ in
The Problem of the Hexateuch and Other Essays, Trans. by E. W. Trueman Dicken (Edinburgh |
London: Oliver and Boyd, 1966) p. 27.
257
R. Alter, The Art of Biblical Narrative, revd edn. (New York, New York: Basic Books, 2011) p.
21;
258
P. R. Noble, ‘Synchronic and Diachronic Approaches to Biblical Interpretation’ JLT 7:2,
1993, p. 145.
65
sources becomes exceedingly difficult.
259
Instead, the focus of attention here
is to undertake a synchronic approach using the liturgical hermeneutic to
enable an exploration of the presence of the three liturgical strands, asking
whether this will reveal an intentional theme which can provide a coherent
reading across the whole text.
Hwang provides a helpful example of this type of synchronic approach to
studying Deuteronomy when he examines the theme of the ‘fathers’ as an
intentional rhetorical device rather than something that reflects
compositional layers.
260
This is helpful, not only as it demonstrates taking a
synchronic approach to trace a particular theme across the text as a whole
but, significantly for this study, are the ways in which a number of key points
he raises as particular to this approach relate closely to the liturgical
hermeneutic. For example, he argues that the repetitiveness of the text is a
‘homiletical strategy designed to inculcate the audience with memory. The
book is shot through with exhortations for Israel to remember the past.’
261
This clearly relates to the first liturgical strand, that of the importance of
memory. He also goes on to argue that this particular rhetorical approach is
not simply about recounting the past, but ‘actualises’ it for the contemporary
audience.
262
This concept relates to the second liturgical strand, in which the
liturgical collapse of liturgical time draws together the past and the future
into the present moment. He then argues that this approach acknowledges
the way in which Deuteronomy assumes that its words will have authority for
future generations.
263
Although he does not draw this out specifically,
Hwang’s comment is not dissimilar to the third liturgical strand, that of the
vital connection between worship and mission, in that he is identifying the
way a function of the text was to affect the way future generations would live
259
Noble, ‘Synchronic and Diachronic Approaches’, p. 141.
260
J. Hwang, The Rhetoric of Remembrance: An Investigation of the ‘Fathers’ in Deuteronomy,
(Winona Lake, Indiana: Eisenbrauns, 2012) p. 4.
261
Hwang, The Rhetoric of Remembrance, p. 7.
262
Hwang, The Rhetoric of Remembrance, p. 8.
263
Hwang, The Rhetoric of Remembrance, pp. 8-9.
66
their lives. This similarity of themes then supports using a synchronic
approach in order to use the liturgical hermeneutic in reading the text.
264
Use of ‘liturgy’ and ‘liturgical’ in wider scholarship
This work is predicated on the liturgical nature of Deuteronomy. The next
section will demonstrate different ways in which scholarship has used the
words ‘liturgy’ and ‘liturgical’ to analyse and describe Deuteronomy. These
terms are used relatively often by scholars to describe particular aspects and
features of Deuteronomy, but there is often no clear definition indicating
what the writer specifically means or what particular liturgical qualities are
being identified in the text. Similarly, in virtually every occurrence no
connection is made between these observations and contemporary liturgical
studies to support why particular features of the text should be understood to
be liturgical. This lack of clarity creates difficulties in knowing what is
intended by scholars using the terms, and also creates areas of conflict where
scholars disagree because there is insufficiently definition.
This section will set out three particular ways in which the text has been
described as either being ‘liturgical’ or demonstrating characteristics of
liturgy. These are first, connections between the liturgical nature of the text
264
Other scholars who have also adopted a synchronic approach to Deuteronomy in order
either to explore a particular theme or to respond to the rhetorical setting of the book
include R. Polzin, Moses and the Deuteronomist: A Literary study of the Deuteronomic History,
Part One: Deuteronomy, Joshua, Judges (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1980); D. T.
Olson, Deuteronomy and the Death of Moses: A Theological Reading, (Eugene, Oregon: Wipf
and Stock, 1994); J. G. Millar, Now Choose Life: Theology and Ethics in Deuteronomy,
(Leicester: Apollos, 1998); J. G. McConville, Deuteronomy, Apollos Old Testament
Commentary (Downer's Grove, Illinois | Nottingham: IVP, 2002); J. Robson, Honey from the
Rock: Deuteronomy for the People of God (Nottingham: Apollos, 2013); P. T. Vogt,
Deuteronomic Theology and the Significance of the Torah: A Reappraisal, (Winona Lake,
Indiana: Eisenbrauns, 2006); P. Barker, Deuteronomy: The God who keeps promises,
(Melbourne: Acorn Press, 1998); C. J. H. Wright, Deuteronomy, New International Biblical
Commentary Old Testament Series, 4 (Carlisle: Paternoster Press, 1996). See also R. W. L.
Moberly, At the Mountain of God: Story and Theology in Exodus 32-34 (JSOTSup 22; JSOT
Press (1983) esp. pp. 15-43; R. Rendtorff, ‘The Paradigm is changing: Hopes and Fears’ Biblical
Interpretation Vol. 1 no. 1 Feb 1993, pp. 34-53.
67
and the emphasis placed on learning and education; second, liturgical and
cultic influences on the shape and content of the text; and third, the later
liturgical reception of the text. After examining these weaknesses, the three
strands of the liturgical hermeneutic will be used to demonstrate that the text
is indeed liturgical.
Learning and Education
One way that scholars have attempted to demonstrate the liturgical nature of
Deuteronomy has been to highlight ways that allegedly liturgical texts have a
specific function in the text’s overall aim of passing on faith to the next
generation. This idea of teaching and education is emphasised by Robson
who argues that in ‘Deuteronomy the tôrâ is a portable Horeb.’
265
He defines
this by arguing that as the community gather it is with the purpose of hearing
again the words God spoke at Horeb. This, he states, is to learn from them
and pass them on to the next generation, and he points to Deut 4:10 in
support of this.
266
Building on this, he also adds that the ‘day of the assembly’
as seen in 9:10; 10:4 and 18:16 is ‘paradigmatic of every “assembly”, whether
of synagogue or of church.'
267
From this perspective, the liturgical gathering
of the community is associated with hearing and responding to God’s law, as
spoken to the community initially at Horeb.
Whilst the verses he cites support this interpretation of the assembly as a
place of learning, he does not go on to explore how this then compares with
other types of communal gatherings described in Deuteronomy, for example,
passages such as the pilgrimage festivals which draw on important communal
features such as feasting and providing for the poor (Deut 16:7; 16:11). These
passages are about more than just education and learning, but Robson does
not comment on how they might be part of his reading of the text as
liturgical. It is not that education is not a significant theme in Deuteronomy,
or that it does not feature at times of communal gathering, but this is clearly
265
Robson, Honey from the Rock, pp. 124-5.
266
Robson, Honey from the Rock, pp. 124-5.
267
Robson, Honey from the Rock, pp. 124-5.
68
not the only feature present in the text at these times. As such it is apparent
that, although significant to the text as a whole, it would be difficult to sustain
the argument that intentional education could be the key identifier of
liturgical characteristics in the text.
In exploring ways in which liturgy and worship function as educational tools in
the text, Weinfeld draws attention to the way that ‘the catechisms attached
to Passover and the crossing of the Jordan are rooted in a liturgical tradition
that came to actualize the soteriological events of the Exodus and the
conquest.’
268
The rescue from slavery in Egypt is a significant theme in
Deuteronomy. There are repeated calls to remember God’s deliverance of
the people from Egypt (6:12, 21; 7:8; 8:14; 15:15) as well as the way in which
remembering is used as motivation for obedience (10:19; 16:12; 24:18). The
worship of the community is clearly closely bound up with the story of
salvation and rescue from Egypt throughout the text, and the notion of
remembering, collapsing time and connecting worship with action relate
directly to the strands of the liturgical hermeneutic. What Weinfeld does not
provide, though, is evidence as to how the particular points he identifies
relate to liturgical understanding and how he is defining the term ‘liturgical’.
Several scholars also make the argument that Deuteronomy is not simply
focused on education for the sake of imparting knowledge, but that the
emphasis is placed on behaviour and attitude.
269
Support for this is found in
the way that, for example, unlike the rest of the Pentateuch, Deuteronomy is
the only book ‘that is accompanied with instructions for its liturgical use’
270
and the only one ‘which prescribes the recitation of prayers in ritual
268
M. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-11, Anchor Bible (New York, New York: Doubleday, 1991) p.
329.
269
See for example, S. E. Balentine, The Torah’s Vision of Worship, Overtures to Biblical
Theology (Minneapolis, Minnesota: Fortress Press, 1999) p. 190; T. E. Fretheim, The
Pentateuch, (Nashville, Tennessee: Abingdon, 1996) p. 160; J. A. Thompson, Deuteronomy
TOTC (Leicester: IVP, 1974) p. 76.
270
D. I. Block, How I Love Your Torah, O Lord!: Studies in the Book of Deuteronomy, (Eugene,
Oregon: Cascade Books, 2011) pp. xiv-xv.
69
ceremonies (Deut 21:8; 26:3b-10a; 15).’
271
Whilst this does relate to the third
strand of the hermeneutic, that of the important connection between
worship and mission, this is not something that is identified by these other
scholars, and no explanation is provided as to why this should be understood
as a liturgical attribute.
Liturgical and cultic influences on the text
A number of scholars defend the use of the word ‘liturgical’ to describe
Deuteronomy by arguing that cultic or liturgical settings have influenced the
shape of the text. Von Rad, for example, argues that a cultic origin can be
observed by the movement through the text from the recital of laws to the
covenant formulation. This, he states, reflects the cultic pattern on which it is
based, so that it ‘retains the pattern of hortatory allocution, reading of the
Law, sealing of covenant, blessing, and curse.’
272
He does also go on to argue,
though, that the final form of the book moves beyond its cultic origins,
273
with
the text now presented as an instructional sermon for lay people.
274
One
specific way in which he argues for the influence of the cult on the text is the
repeated use of the word , which, he states, is not simply stylistic but is
cultic in the way it recounts the story of freedom from slavery in Egypt.
275
Von Rad is right in drawing attention to a liturgically important word, and its
relevance for the liturgical hermeneutic will be explored in more detail below.
Yet despite doing this and arguing that the word has cultic significance, he
does not go on to provide evidence to support how or why this claim should
be considered as liturgically meaningful.
271
M. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 1972) p. 32.
272
von Rad, ‘The Problem of the Hexateuch’, p. 33. See also G. von Rad, Deuteronomy, trans.
D. Barton (London: SCM Press, 1966) p. 12.
273
von Rad, ‘The Problem of the Hexateuch’, p. 33.
274
von Rad, Deuteronomy, p. 23.
275
von Rad, ‘The Problem of the Hexateuch’, p. 28.
70
Cairns also argues for the influence of liturgical repetition on the text
276
which, he states, can be seen in the Book of the Covenant as well. Similarly to
von Rad, Cairns argues that the Deuteronomic law code, as well as chapters 6-
11, came to their current shape through repeated use in festivals in northern
Israel.
277
The shape of the liturgy of the festival, ‘reading of the law, recital of
Yahweh's gracious deeds, solemn reiteration of blessings and curses, homilies
and exhortations’, he argues, can then be seen to have influenced the
compilation of Deuteronomy.
278
Similarly, Fretheim points to an underlying
liturgical influence on the text. This he describes in terms of the public,
formal recounting of God’s promises, followed by the obligations that both
God and the people make to one another.
279
But, as with von Rad, whilst
both Cairns and Fretheim draw attention to important textual features,
neither go on to provide a definition as to why these particular textual
features can be used to identify liturgy or liturgical texts.
A further use of the potential cultic influence on the text is made by
Christensen. He argues for the significance of the liturgical dimension of the
text and uses this as the governing aspect for his commentary.
280
He
emphasises the liturgical setting of the text, adding that it ‘was no doubt
composed with music as an essential aspect of the tradition itself.’
281
While
appearing to emphasise the liturgical nature of the text, he goes on however
to describe it instead as a ‘didactic poem, composed to be recited publicly to
music in ancient Israel within a liturgical setting.’
282
From this, his focus
becomes reading the text as poetry, detailing the musical setting,
283
as
opposed to reading it as a liturgical text with a musical setting. It is also
276
I. Cairns, Deuteronomy: Word and Presence, ITC (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans |
Edinburgh: Handsel Press ltd., 1992) p. 6.
277
Cairns, Deuteronomy, p. 20.
278
Cairns, Deuteronomy, p. 20.
279
Fretheim, The Pentateuch, p. 159.
280
D. L. Christensen, Deuteronomy 1-11, Word Biblical Commentary (Dallas, Texas: Word
Books, 1991).
281
Christensen, Deuteronomy 1-11, p. lx.
282
D. L. Christensen, Deuteronomy 1:1 - 21:9, 2nd edn. (Nashville, Tennessee: Thomas
Nelson, 2001) p. lxxxiv.
283
Christensen, Deuteronomy 1:1 - 21:9, p. lxx.
71
difficult to know at times whether Christensen argues for what he sees as
arising genuinely from his engagement with the text or simply in support his
own particular interpretation of it.
284
As such, both Gerbrandt,
285
and
Merrill
286
who is himself broadly supportive of Christensen’s commentary,
question the ultimate usefulness of his approach in understanding the text.
In support of the perceived musical and poetic textual dimensions,
Christensen notes van Goudoever’s article in which he sets out his argument
for understanding the significance of the date in Deut 1:3. Van Goudoever
argues that the text should be understood liturgically, seeing Deuteronomy as
preparation for the Passover celebration in Josh 5.
287
He describes
Deuteronomy as ‘probably the most liturgical book of the Bible’,
288
but
frustratingly this is nothing more than a passing comment in a brief
conclusion to a short article. He does not develop this point and the
examples he cites in support of his argument are merely that of the Sabbatical
year and the liturgical text of 26:1-11.
289
If he does think the text is liturgically
significant, he does not provide further support for this, nor does he go on to
explore this in more detail and neither does he explain how he defines or is
using the term ‘liturgical’.
It is not impossible that a cultic or liturgical setting has had some influence on
the overall shape of the text. For example, the text begins by recounting the
history of the people of God. It establishes from the beginning who they are,
and are to become, in relation to the God who has rescued them from slavery
in Egypt. Chapter 5 sets out the ‘text’, the Decalogue, which is then
284
G. Gerbrandt, ‘Review of D. L. Christensen Deuteronomy 1:1-21:9’ in Bulletin for Biblical
Research 14.2 2004, pp. 276-278.
285
Gerbrandt, ‘Review of D. L. Christensen’, pp. 276-278.
286
E. H. Merrill, ‘Review of D. L. Christensen Deuteronomy 1:1-21’ in Journal of the Evangelical
Theological Society 46.4 2003, pp. 720-722.
287
J. van Goudoever ‘The Liturgical Significance of the Date in Dt. 1, 3’ in Das Duteronomium
Entstehung, Gestalt und Botschaft, ed. N. Lohfink (Leuven, Belgium: Leuven University Press,
1985) p. 145.
288
van Goudoever, ‘The Liturgical Significance’, p. 148.
289
van Goudoever, ‘The Liturgical Significance’, p. 148.
72
expounded in chapters 12-26.
290
Chapter 12, the beginning of the
Deuteronomic law code, begins with a focus on worship, reflecting the
opening theme of the Decalogue. Worship then forms a frame around the
law code, as it closes with an explicit liturgy in chapter 26, which takes the
form of an offering, containing within it a creedal-type statement. There is
also a point of communal gathering and re-commitment in chapter 29, with
an emphasis that all within the community are expected to respond, including
women, young children and resident aliens. This does broadly appear to
follow what could be understood to be some sort of coherent liturgical or
cultic pattern. Craigie in particular argues that a clear liturgical connection
can be observed by drawing a link between the text and the covenant
renewal at Shechem,
291
and he draws on Josh 8:30-35 in support of this.
Whilst this might be a plausible reading of the text, again what is lacking is a
clear definition of terms.
Liturgical reception of the text
A number of scholars have argued that the liturgical nature of Deuteronomy
can be demonstrated through the later liturgical reception of the text, or
parts of the text. For example, Block explores the reception of the Shema in
particular, noting that not only is it recited twice a day by Orthodox Jews, but
‘it appears immediately after the Decalogue in the Nash Papyrus, a second-
century BCE liturgical text, and in a first-century CE phylactery text from Cave
8 at Qumran, where the Shema is written in a rectangle and surrounded by
other texts.’
292
Tigay also argues that Deuteronomy has influenced the shape
of Jewish worship, looking not just to the recitation of the Shema, but also the
blessing after meals. He argues that the Birkat Ha-Mazon is based on Deut
8:10 and that the ‘recitation of Kiddush on the Sabbath is based on the
rabbinic interpretation of le-kaddesho, “to sanctify it,” in the fifth
290
J. H. Walton, ‘The Decalogue Structure of the Deuteronomic Law’ in eds. Firth, D. G. and P.
S. Johnston Interpreting Deuteronomy: Issues and Approaches, (Nottingham: Apollos, 2012).
291
P. C. Craigie, Deuteronomy, (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1976) p. 32.
292
Block, How I Love Your Torah, p. 75.
73
commandment (5:12).’
293
Similarly, Weinfeld makes a case for the liturgical
reception of Deuteronomy through the rest of the Old Testament and into
later Jewish liturgy. In discussing the use of the Shema, he writes that this
declares the acceptance of the exclusive Kingship of God is preceded
by a benediction which proclaims God's love to Israel especially in the
election of his people, an idea taken from the deuteronomic liturgical
orations. This is followed by the Ge'ullah Benediction centred on the
redemption from Egypt, which is also one of the basic tenets in the
liturgies of Deuteronomy.
294
He argues that the way in which both the individual and the community are
brought together in Deuteronomy’s liturgy can also be seen in later Jewish
prayers.
295
He also goes on to argue a deuteronomistic liturgical influence can
be observed in DtrH.
296
These scholars are right in showing how later liturgical practice appear to
have drawn from particular Deuteronomic texts, but this in itself does not
have to mean that the original texts are themselves liturgical. There are
numerous examples in Anglican liturgy where biblical texts are placed into a
liturgical setting, but this later use does not then mean that the original
contexts of the verses can be automatically identified as liturgical.
297
Conclusion to use of liturgy and liturgical in wider scholarship
The above sections have each examined a different way in which scholars
have argued that Deuteronomy is a liturgical text. Whilst some of the points
raised are similar to aspects of the liturgical hermeneutic, no clear definitions
have been provided in order to support the argument. This lack of definition
293
J. H. Tigay, Deuteronomy, JPS Torah Commentary (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: The Jewish
Publication Society, 1996) p. xxviii.
294
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, p. 43.
295
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, pp. 43-44.
296
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, p. 43.
297
For example, Holy Communion, Order One, the Summary of the Law at the beginning of
the Prayers of Penitence quotes Mark 12:29 – 31, which in turn is an adaptation of Deut 6:4-
5, Church of England Liturgy and Ritual, Common Worship, p. 168; The second option for
prayer of confession ends with words from Micah 6:8, Church of England Liturgy and Ritual,
Common Worship p. 169; The opening line of the Gloria is an adaptation of Luke 2:14, Church
of England Liturgy and Ritual, Common Worship, p. 171.
74
makes it difficult to know exactly what is being referred to when the terms
‘liturgical’ or ‘liturgy’ are being used. Equally, on the occasions when
evidence is provided, there is no link made to liturgical studies in order to
show why this particular approach should be understood to define something
as ‘liturgical’.
The three strands of the liturgical hermeneutic
The previous section has shown that scholarship frequently uses the terms
‘liturgy’ or ‘liturgical’ in discussion and analysis of Deuteronomy in ways that
lack clarity and definition. Having stated above that the text is being used
because of its inherent liturgical qualities, this section will demonstrate this
by showing the presence of the three strands of the liturgical hermeneutic,
the importance of remembering; the liturgical collapse of time; and the
connection between liturgy and mission. The three strands of the liturgical
hermeneutic provide a clear definition for the terms ‘liturgy’ and ‘liturgical’
and, as was shown in the previous chapter, are directly drawn from
contemporary liturgical studies.
The importance of Remembering
The first strand of the liturgical hermeneutic drawn from Gittoes’ work is the
importance of remembering. This section will show that the idea of
‘remembering’ is not only present in the text but is an important theme and
concept throughout, and is used in the text to support significant theological
themes.
The concept of ‘remembering’ is a much more prominent theme in
Deuteronomy than the rest of the Pentateuch. It is used in a significant and
particular way as part of the rhetorical strategy adopted throughout the text
to impress its particular theological motifs on subsequent generations. The
word is used distinctively by Deuteronomy, as is demonstrated by comparison
75
with the wider Pentateuch. For example, in Genesis it is almost always God
who is the subject of the verb, either in committing to remember his
covenant (e.g. Gen 9:15, 16) or to remember particular individuals in order to
bring about deliverance or a change in circumstance (e.g. Gen 8:1; 19:29;
30:22). The only two occurrences in Genesis where people are the subject are
in the Joseph narrative, the cupbearer’s promise to remember Joseph and
subsequent forgetting (Gen 40:14, 23; 41:9); and Joseph himself remembering
the dreams he had about his brothers (Gen 42:9).
Similarly, in Exodus, God is again the subject of remembering (e.g. Exod 2:24;
6:5; 32:13) but there are also four occurrences of the people being
encouraged to remember, one of which occurs in the Decalogue (Exod 13:3;
20:8, 24; 23:13). In Leviticus the word only occurs twice, in one verse, and
both times it is God who is the subject (Lev 26:42, 45). In Numbers, one use
of the word has God as subject (10:19) and one use is a narrative context
where the people are grumbling about how good life was in Egypt (11:5). Of
the other three occurrences, one is the title of a particular type of offering
(5:15) and the other two are associated with the instruction to wear tassels
on garments in order to have a physical reminder of God’s commands.
Of the 14 occurrences in Deuteronomy, which is more than any one of the
other individual books of the Pentateuch, the most significant contrast is that
all but one has the people as subject, rather than God. The exception to this
occurs during the passage where Moses is recounting the Golden Calf incident
to the people. The word can also be seen to be important given that in 11 out
of 13 occurrences it occurs at the beginning of the verse, and on another two
occasions the construction is used to underline further the stress
and insistence on remembering.
This is not simply about the presence of the word, however, but more
importantly it is the vital role ‘remembering’ plays in the outworking of
Deuteronomy’s theological agenda. It is more than mere recollection as
Moses addresses the later generation as if they themselves were the ones
76
who had been rescued by God from slavery in Egypt and had heard the initial
proclamation of the law. As Childs puts it, memory ‘provides the link between
past and present. The Deuteronomist is acutely aware that Israel’s
redemptive history has not ceased. Her history continues only as present
Israel established her continuity with the past through memory.’
298
has a paraenetic function within deuteronomic preaching
299
and the
specific use of the word arises out of a point of crisis creating an urgent need
to renew the tradition.
300
The continuing work of ‘Israel’s redemptive history’
is brought about through active engagement with the past, calling each
generation to that point of decision, just as with the original wilderness
generation.
301
Remembering therefore becomes something that is more
multifaceted that simply meaning to recall something that happened in the
past,
302
but is used in order to encourage faith and obedience to the law and
commandments
303
and this is achieved in a number of ways. On four
occasions, the construction is used to connect the act of remembering
with observing the law (5:15; 15:15; 24:18, 22). Based on this, Ellman rightly
argues that this
grammatically makes the commandment a function of the memory. It
makes the fulfilment of commandments the logical and inevitable
result of memory and underscores D’s ideal of a seamless transition
from the act of memory (speaking) to the act of fulfilling the law that
D demands.
304
What she does not go on to comment on, though, is that this is not the only
way in which the act of remembering is linked firmly to the importance of
298
B. S. Childs, Memory and Tradition in Israel, Studies in Biblical Theology no. 37 (London:
SCM Press, 1962) pp. 55-56.
299
Childs, Memory, p. 47.
300
Childs, Memory, p. 80.
301
Childs, Memory, pp. 55-56.
302
H. Eising, zākhar, in ed. G. Johannes Botterweck and H. Ringgren trans. D. E. Green
Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament Vol. IV, (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans,
1980) p. 66.
303
Eising, zākhar, pp. 67-68.
304
B. Ellman, Memory and Covenant: The Role of Israel’s and God’s Memory in Sustaining the
Deuteronomic and Priestly Covenants, (Minneapolis, Minnesota: Fortress Press, 2013) p. 60.
77
keeping the commandments. In 8:18 and 16:3 this same stress on connecting
remembering with keeping the law is achieved through the use of . In
16:12 this connection is achieved through and, although not appearing
in the same verse as , 24:8 stresses the importance of following the
commandments carefully through two variations of .
Other words throughout Deuteronomy also emphasise the importance of
remembering. Other than three times in Genesis, all of which have a narrative
context (Gen 27:45; 40:23; 41:30), the word does not appear at all in the
Pentateuch other than the 13 times in Deuteronomy. Whilst remembering is
important due to its motivation in terms of keeping the law, forgetting, in
Deuteronomy, will bring about the exact opposite, worshipping idols (4:23),
not keeping the commandments (8:11), forgetting God (8:14; 32:18) and
worshipping other gods (8:19).
305
The importance of remembering is also
furthered through the use of words which ‘represent the acquisition,
maintenance, and transmission of memory through instruction, learning, and
repetition of canonic lessons.’
306
Moses instructs the people that they are to
recite and repeat the laws and commandments.
307
The stress placed on the importance of remembering is further emphasised
through the use of the word occurring 16 times in Deuteronomy but not
featuring at all in Genesis – Numbers. Ellman states that in response to the
need to remain faithful to the covenant with God, Deuteronomy introduces a
system by which the people ‘continually speak, learn, and teach about God
and God’s law. In order that the people do so, Deuteronomy offers a religious
practice based on the verbalization of memory.’
308
She argues that this is a
more cognitive approach as compared to the more sensory approach of the
priestly narrative.
309
The survey conducted here of the use of significant
305
See also Ellman, Memory and Covenant, p. 62.
306
Ellman, Memory and Covenant, p. 65.
307
Ellman, Memory and Covenant, p. 65.
308
Ellman, Memory and Covenant, p. 46.
309
Ellman, Memory and Covenant, p. 46.
78
words connected with remembering, those of learning, speaking and not
forgetting, supports the conclusion that she is making.
What also comes across clearly is that this is all to have an effect on the
hearts of the people, with the laws being put or placed on their hearts. is
used 43 times in Deuteronomy, in comparison with only 3 times in Genesis,
once in Exodus, 3 in Leviticus and once in Numbers. The laws and
commandments are to be ‘on’ their hearts (6:6 ), they are to ‘lay’ or ‘put /
place’ the commandments on their hearts (4:39 and 11:18; 32:46 )
and in 30:6, God will circumcise their hearts. The heart is important, but not
simply as the place where knowledge is stored. Memory in Deuteronomy is
purposeful and transforming and this is more than simply an act of bringing a
past event to mind.
Memory functions as an actualization (Vergegenwärtigung) of the
decisive event in her tradition. The sign of the continuing relationship
of Yahweh to his people is the rest of the Sabbath. Israel in every
generation remembers and so shares in the same redemptive time.
310
Crucially therefore, and particularly in light of Gittoes’ work, this is not just
remembering in order to fully participate in the events of the past, but
remembering in order to affect the future and to orientate behaviour. The
commandments are placed on the heart so that lives will be lived accordingly.
For the purposes of Deuteronomy, ‘the past is brought into the present with
compelling power. Action in the present is conditioned by what is
remembered.’
311
Remembering means that the people will keep the
commandments and do what is expected of them, whereas forgetting would
mean an effective rejection of God and a turning aside to other gods.
310
Childs, Memory, pp. 53-54.
311
E. P. Blair, ‘An Appeal to Remembrance: The Memory Motif in Deuteronomy’ in
Interpretation Jan 1961 15:1, p. 43.
79
The liturgical collapse of time
The second strand of the hermeneutic is the liturgical collapse of time. As
noted in the previous chapter, this describes the way in which liturgy seeks to
make what happened in the past a present reality, while simultaneously
drawing the promises of God about the future into the present. As with the
previous section, the text will be examined to see whether this strand of the
hermeneutic is present, and if so to what effect.
Whilst the three strands of the liturgical hermeneutic are distinct, they are
also closely connected, and this can be observed when comparing the first
and second strands. So, for example, as was stressed previously, the function
of remembering and memory in Deuteronomy is not simply to call something
to mind, but it is an intentional remembering in order to have an active effect
on both the individual and the wider community in the present. The
centrality of memory means that the portrayal of religion in Deuteronomy is
not limited by time.
312
The expectation is established from the beginning
(Deut 5:3) that the law and covenant was not something merely given to their
ancestors in the past, but is actively being made real to them in the
present.
313
The gathered people are addressed as if they are the first
generation to hear the words, emphasised by the placement of the negative
at the start of the verse. This liturgical collapse of time then brings about
an urgency in drawing the people of the community to a point of deciding for
themselves to follow the law that Moses has set out for them.
314
Through
this, Moses addresses the people as if they had memories of things that they
had not experienced (Deut 4:9-13; 11:2-7) and so brings the story of the
nation into the present,
315
actualising the faith by drawing together past,
present and future into one.
316
This then in turn becomes a paradigm of each
312
Ellman, Memory and Covenant, p. 104.
313
A. Popovic, ‘The Bible as a Book of Memory’ in Antonianum LXXIX (2004) p. 420.
314
W. Brueggemann, Deuteronomy, Abingdon Old Testament Commentaries (Nashville,
Tennessee: Abingdon Press, 2001) pp. 65-6.
315
Ellman, Memory and Covenant, p. 65.
316
von Rad, ‘The Form-Critical Problem of the Hexateuch’, p. 29.
80
new generation being taught about the law, receiving it and committing to
live according to it, before continuing the pattern by teaching it to the next
generation.
317
The expectation that people would live according to the law
relates closely to the third strand of the liturgical hermeneutic, the
connection between worship and mission, and this is will be explored in more
detail below.
It is not just bringing the past into the present moment that is demonstrated
in Deuteronomy but there is a recognition of the role that the future
generations will have. This is, in part, the narrative’s anticipated fulfilment of
the promises of possession of the land that had been given to the previous
generation. As Hwang describes it, the narrative trajectory of the text sees
that the generation being addressed ‘inherits the promise given to the
patriarchs and partially fulfilled through the deliverance from Egypt, in
addition to becoming ancestors of future generations who will reflect back on
this seminal moment before Israel entered the land.’
318
This narrative pull
across the generations also combines with the way the text addresses each
new generation, including those who would have been settled into the
promised land for many years, as though they were the generation of those
about to enter it.
This pull between past, present and future shifts throughout the text and is
demonstrated through Polzin’s examination of the use of reported and direct
speech in Deuteronomy specifically through the three speeches of Moses.
Polzin states that in the first speech (1:6-4:40), Moses speaks mostly about
past events and statements. In the second speech (5:1-28:68), Moses begins
to speak about the future and there is the inclusion of other people’s
statements about what they will do or say in the future (6:20-25; 7:17; 9:4).
In the third speech (29:2-31:6), the focus is almost entirely on the future,
‘whenever Moses quotes anyone directly, it is their future utterances he
317
Robson, Honey from the Rock, p. 38.
318
Hwang, The Rhetoric of Remembrance, p. 6.
81
quotes’.
319
He also adds that the ending of the book (31:7-33:29) has a future
orientation as well.
320
The reader or listener is then taken through the
journey of past, present and future through the different time-frames present
in Moses’ speeches. At the same time there is the awareness that the
generation being addressed by Moses are not actually those who were
brought out of slavery in Egypt. Equally, those reading the final form of the
text are not the generation about to cross into the Promised Land for the first
time, but are addressed as if they are.
321
This adds additional layers of time
which are then intentionally drawn into the liturgical collapse of time
observed in the text. Indeed, if the later generation about to cross into the
Promised Land were not addressed ‘as if’ they were a previous generation,
then the text may well not have the capacity to draw subsequent generations
back to the moment of decision that faces those about to enter the land.
The covenant between God and his people is a significant theological concept
in Deuteronomy, and features much more prominently than in the rest of the
Pentateuch, with the exception of Genesis.
322
Through the collapse of time,
each generation is drawn back to the point of hearing the law as if for the first
time and being brought to the point of decision making and commitment. In
the speeches ‘Moses “concertinas” past and future events into the “today” of
the plains of Moab. Alongside this compression into the existential “now”
there is a strong sense of unfolding history, a storyline that reaches back into
the past, and will reach into the future.’
323
As mentioned above, this can be
seen through 5:2-3 where those being addressed are spoken to as if they are
the first recipients of the covenant. The text showing the urgency in making
this about the current generation. As Miller helpfully describes it, the words
when translated literally would be ‘made not with our ancestors but "with us,
we, these ones, here, today, all of us, living." The text uses seven words
319
Polzin, Moses and the Deuteronomist, pp. 25-6.
320
Polzin, Moses and the Deuteronomist, pp. 25-6.
321
E. J. Woods, Deuteronomy, TOTC (Nottingham | Downer’s Grove, Illinois: IVP, 2011) p. 184.
322
The word occurs 27 times in Deuteronomy and also in Genesis, only 13 times in
Exodus, 8 in Leviticus, 5 in Numbers.
323
Robson, Honey from the Rock, p. 31.
82
heaped one upon another to stress the contemporary claim of the
covenant.’
324
Through this, the text stresses the importance of remembering
and not forgetting the covenant (Deut 4:23; 8:18), that there are promises of
blessing for keeping the covenant and punishment for forgetting (7:12; 17:2;
29:20, 24; 31:16, 20; 33:9).
325
It is also interesting to note that a liturgical collapse of time, linking past,
present and future together, can be observed in Jewish liturgical practice.
The reading of the Torah is cyclical, ‘always returning to the beginning’,
326
as
when the reading of Deuteronomy is completed, the cycle of readings then
returns to begin Genesis. This practice creates a pull of ‘forwards and
backwards’, with anticipation of what will be read and reflection on what has
already been read.
Importance of
A further way in which the liturgical collapse time is seen in Deuteronomy is
through the repeated use of the word which often connects the past
event, with the present as well as anticipating future fulfilment. Halbe draws
attention to this play of time, how the call of ‘this day’ draws each generation
to the moment of the covenant.
Eines Anfangs voller Spannung: bestimmt durchs ‘Schon jetzt’ der
Horeb-berît, bestimmt durchs ‘Noch nicht’ der Ankunft, erst recht des
‘Ruhens’ im Land. Das ‘Hören’ in diesem ‘Heute’ versetzt in Horeb-
Gegenwart: trotz Horeb-Distanz (Ctn 5); versetzt auf den Weg hin ins
Land: trotz Sitzens darin. Spiel mit der Zeit, das Zeit unterbricht:
‘Heute’!
327
324
Miller, Deuteronomy, p. 67.
325
See also P. R. Williamson, ‘Covenant’ in Dictionary of the Old Testament: Pentateuch ed. T.
Desmond Alexander & D. W. Baker (Nottingham | Downer’s Grove, Illinois: IVP, 2003) pp.
152-3.
326
R. E. Friedman, Commentary on the Torah, (New York, New York: HarperSanFrancisco,
2003) p. 681.
327
J. Halbe, “‘Gemeinschaft, die Welt unterbricht”: Grundfragen und -inhalte
deuteronomischer Theologie und Überlieferungsbildung im Lichte der Ursprungsbedingungen
alttestamentlichen Rechts’ in Das Deuteronomium: Entstehung, Gestalt und Botschaft, ed. N.
Lohfink (Leuven University Press: Leuven, 1985) p. 57.
83
It is this rhetorical device which brings each new generation to the edge of
the Promised Land, identifying with the events of a previous generation. They
then become representative for all following generations who, like them,
become those people who stand and hear the word of God and choose to
respond.
328
Von Rad argues that the repeated use of this word is a literary
device, but brings about ‘a vivid reconstruction of the events in the
redemption story as such as only the cultus can furnish.’
329
Given the way in
which the use of this word pulls the past into the present, and that the
‘present’ transcends the ‘present’ of the writer / editor and assumed first
audience of the text, this is clearly connected with the liturgical collapse of
time and provides support for von Rad’s argument that this is something
particular that arises out of a liturgical rather than solely rhetorical context.
Worship and Mission
The third liturgical strand from the hermeneutic is the vital connection
between worship and mission. As was stated in the previous chapter, the
understanding of ‘mission’ that is being used here is following Wright’s
model
330
and, rather than being seen in terms of proselytising, is instead
understood as the ethical and social outworking of the demands of God.
Again, the text will be examined to see whether this strand can be observed,
and if it is then to what extent and purpose. As with the previous two strands
of the hermeneutic, there is a close relationship between this one and the
other two, and some of the comments above also contribute to the work
here, whilst at the same time there is still a particular and distinctive focus for
this third strand.
An important way that Deuteronomy makes the connection between worship
and mission is the emphasis placed on teaching and learning. This is a
significant change from the rest of the Pentateuch as the word does not
328
Robson, Honey from the Rock, pp. 38-39; S. K. Sherwood, Leviticus, Numbers,
Deuteronomy, Berit Olam (Collegevile, Minnesota: The Liturgical Press, 2002) p. 209.
329
von Rad, ‘The Form-Critical Problem of the Hexateuch’, p. 28.
330
Wright, ‘Mission as a Matrix for Hermeneutics and Biblical Theology’.
84
feature prior to Deuteronomy. As noted above, this is not simply learning for
the sake of growing in knowledge, but education in order to affect the way in
which lives are lived out. The text that clearly demonstrates this as over half
of the occurrences of happen alongside , or a variation of
(Deut 4:1, 5, 14; 5:1, 31; 6:1; 17:19; 18:9; 20:18; 31:12), emphasising the
strong link between learning and doing. The stress placed on the link
between learning and acting appropriately is further emphasised twice by the
addition of (5:1) and (31:12). Of the other occurrences of the
word, the importance of teaching children is emphasised (Deut 4:10; 11:19;
31:13),
331
a connection is made between bringing and eating the tithe in the
place that God will choose, so that the people will learn (14:23), and finally
Moses is instructed to write the song and teach it to the people (31:19, 22).
Braulik explores the use of in a synchronic study of passages. He
concludes by stating that the emphasis is placed on the people to pass on
their own experiences to the next generation, and he particularly references
Deut 4:10 in support of this. As he argues, Deuteronomy ‘is first and foremost
concerned with teaching and learning a faith related to the community.’
332
This model of associating learning with action seeks to ensure that each
generation will take on the responsibilities of the faith and live accordingly.
Within this discussion, there are two particular verses that stand out as being
particularly important. The first is the use of the word within the instructions
on appointing a king (Deut 17:14-20). While vv. 15-17 set out to place limits
on the king, the only positive instruction, or the one thing that the king has to
do, is educational. He is to write out his own copy of the law, read it every
day and follow the commandments (vv. 18-20). This places unusual
limitations on the king in comparison with monarchy in the ANE. Alongside
this command, is a further unusual instruction in that learning is not just to be
331
See also J. R. Lundbom, Deuteronomy, (Grand Rapids, Michigan | Cambridge: Eerdmans,
2013) p. 51.
332
G. Braulik, The Theology of Deuteronomy: Collected Essays of Georg Braulik, O. S. B., (N.
Richland Hills, Texas: BIBAL Press, 1994) p. 198.
85
kept for the king and the community’s leaders, but, as seen in 31:12, it is for
the whole community, including women, small children and resident aliens.
There is not an expectation on them to write out their own copy of the law,
but rather they are expected to hear, learn and then do all the words of the
law. Limiting the king whilst simultaneously expecting the entire community
to learn and keep the law demonstrates a radical democratisation of the
society, and one that is rooted in learning and following the commandments
and laws. This is an important theme that will be developed more fully in
Chapter Four.
Another important way in which Deuteronomy seeks to affect the behaviour
of the people is the repeated references to their own experiences of slavery
in Egypt. There is a constant reminder of the previous status as slaves in
Egypt throughout the book
333
and a threat at the end of the book of the
possibility of a return to slavery in Egypt if they reject God’s laws (28:68). This
persistent reiteration of the themes of Egypt and slavery are deliberately
intended to have a direct effect on their behaviour and their ethics.
334
In his
recent book, Robson draws attention to the way in which the experience of
the Exodus was to have an effect on ethical behaviour, describing it as ‘the
root both of profound theology and of moral obligation.’
335
He supports this
claim by showing how the root provides a point of comparison between
serving first Pharaoh in Egypt and then serving Yahweh. He goes on to add
that keeping the Sabbath then aids in reinforcing this, as people stopped
carrying out their labour () including all slaves and animals.
336
There is a
clear expectation to treat all people with mercy and care, particularly the
vulnerable and marginalised, as can be seen through repeated references to
333
Deut 5:6, 15; 6:12, 21; 7:8; 13:6, 11; 15:15; 16:12; 24:18, 22.
334
S. L. McKenzie, ‘The Theological Legacy of Deuteronomy’ in ed. C. Bultmann, W. Dietrich,
C. Levin, Vergegenwärtigung des Alten Testaments: Beiträge zur biblischen Hermeneutik
Festschrift für Rudolf Smend zum 70. Geburtstag, (Göttingen: Vendenhoeck & Ruprecht,
2002) p. 42.
335
Robson, Honey from the Rock, pp. 35, 36.
336
Robson, Honey from the Rock, p. 37.
86
widows, orphans and resident aliens,
337
those who were the most
economically vulnerable in society. Anyone with slaves has to include them in
the Sabbath rest (5:14), which would have had a potential economic impact
for their owners. But they are to be specifically included in sharing the
feasting and celebrations with the rest of the community (12:12, 18; 16:11,
14), particularly in the celebrations for the Festival of Booths and the Festival
of Tabernacles.
Conclusion to the liturgical hermeneutic section
The presence of three strands of the liturgical hermeneutic, drawn from
Gittoes’ work, provides clarity for describing the text as a ‘liturgy’ or as
‘liturgical’. This liturgical influence can be seen in the structure of the book as
a whole, for example the liturgical framing of the deuteronomic law code, as
well as the way in which liturgy helps emphasise particular key deuteronomic
theological concepts. The importance of ‘today’ and the associated rhetorical
strategy is used effectively to encourage obedience to the commandments
and the education of the community’s children. The use of the three strands
of the hermeneutic have shown the importance of remembering, how this
emphasises the value placed on the covenant between God and his people
that Deuteronomy presents, and how remembering is contrasted with the
dangers of forgetting. This approach has also drawn attention to the pull
towards the point of decision, with each subsequent generation being
brought to the immediacy of ‘today’ and the need to decide to take on the
ethical and moral obligations expounded throughout. Having shown this, the
next section will explore the presence of the liturgical characteristics of
continuity, adaptation and innovation in the text, showing the role that these
have in shaping the text and drawing attention to its particular theological
priorities.
337
Deut 10:18; 14:29; 16:11, 14; 24:17, 19, 20, 21; 26:12, 13; 27:19.
87
The text demonstrating the liturgical characteristics
The previous section, through use of the liturgical hermeneutic, has clearly
shown the liturgical nature of Deuteronomy, and how these three strands are
vital to the expression and outworking of the book’s overall theology and
purpose. The first chapter proposed that a liturgical model had much to offer
the current deadlock in discussions of fresh expressions of church in an
Anglican context, through a liturgical model of continuity, adaptation and
innovation. Having demonstrated the appropriateness of reading
Deuteronomy as a liturgical text, this next section will now focus on the
liturgical characteristics of continuity, adaptation and innovation. Each one
will be explored in turn, highlighting their presence and function in the text.
Continuity
Deuteronomy makes strong links to what has gone before, both narratively
and canonically. There are reminders that the land the people are about to
enter is that which was promised to their ancestors, Abraham, Isaac and
Jacob (1:8; 6:10; 9:5; 29:12; 30:20; 34:4), rooting the future action of taking
the land back into the stories of the community’s past. The land becomes a
vital and significant theme throughout Deuteronomy
338
and functions
rhetorically to connect the generation to what has gone before. This is
partnered with similarly frequent references to Egypt as the land of slavery,
as mentioned above.
339
The effect is a contrast between the land of slavery
from which God rescued them, and the land of promise that God is bringing
them into. Both the remembering and the fulfilment of the promise are used
to encourage the people to live according to the laws and commandments
that Moses is teaching.
338
Reference to the land as the fulfilment of the promises that God swore to his people
appears in 27 out of 34 chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 15, 16,17, 18, 19, 23, 24,
25, 26, 27, 28, 30, 31, 32, 34.
339
The ‘land of Egypt’ or ‘land of slavery’ is mentioned in 15 out of 34 chapters: 1, 5, 6, 8, 9,
10, 11, 13, 15, 16, 20, 23, 24, 29, 34.
88
Although ‘land’ is a vital concept to the book, the theme of creation is
referred to only once (4:32) and events that occurred prior to the ancestors
arriving in Egypt are barely cited, other than references to the three ancestors
as mentioned above. Rather than creation as the significant story throughout
the book, the ‘source event’, as Gittoes would describe it, for the community
is the rescue from slavery in Egypt and the giving of the law. Teaching of the
law and commandments to the next generation is the primary focus, and the
frequent references to rescue from slavery in Egypt act as motivation to keep
the law. The preference for the Egypt story over the Creation story can be
seen in the Decalogue. Although very similar to what is found in Exodus, the
most significant change is that the motivation to keep the Sabbath is founded
on remembering the rescue from slavery in Egypt (5:15), rather than the
importance of resting on the seventh day, as observed in the creation account
(Exod 20:11). Despite this important adaptation to the Sabbath
commandment, the presence of the Decalogue does also provide a strong
current of continuity with Exodus.
There are also numerous other ways in which Deuteronomy creates
continuity through references to events that are recounted elsewhere in the
Pentateuch. For example, the appointment of leaders for the community
other than just Moses, with the description of ‘commanders of thousands,
commanders of hundreds, commanders of fifties, commanders of tens’ in
1:15 also appears in Exodus (Exod 18:21). Both use slight variations in
language in their accounts but they do use the same word for leader, .
Similarly, Deuteronomy refers to the defeat of King Og several times,
340
an
incident that is narrated in detail in Num 21:21-35 and referenced again in
Num 32:33. The testing of God by the people at Massah is referred to in Deut
6:16; 9:22; 33:8 and recounted in detail in Exod 17:1-7. The provision of
Manna in the wilderness is mentioned in Deut 8:3, 16 as well as Exod 16 and
Num 11. The use of two tablets to record the law is mentioned in Deut 10:1-
340
1:4; 2:24, 26, 30, 31, 32; 3:2, 6; 4:46; 29:6; 31:4.
89
11 and Exod 24:12; 31:18; 32; 34; 38:7. That 70 ancestors originally went to
Egypt is recorded in Deut 10:22 as well as Gen 46:27 and Exod 1:5.
Most of the references are relatively brief in comparison with the accounts
found elsewhere in the Pentateuch. The narrative of the Golden Calf, also in
Exod 32, however, is unusual, in that there is a lot of detail provided in Deut
9:7-29. This unusual amount of detail underlines the importance the text
places on worship of God in the way that is being set out, and the contrast
made with idolatry and the worship practices of other nations, both of which
are to be absolutely avoided.
One further point of continuity is the geographical location that is given in the
final verse of Numbers (Num 36:13) and the first verses of Deuteronomy
(Deut 1:1, 5). Both texts mention being in Moab and by the Jordan river, and
both are about Moses giving the law, either the ‘commandments and rules’
given through Moses, as Numbers puts it, or that what follows are the ‘words’
and ‘law’ that Moses speaks to the people, in Deuteronomy. All of these help
ensure a continuity for the community with what has gone before. The fact
that many of the events referred to are done so with a limited amount of
detail strongly suggests that those responsible for Deuteronomy assumed a
wider knowledge of these particular incidents and stories.
Adaptation
The previous section highlighted the way in which Deuteronomy
demonstrates continuity with the rest of the Pentateuch. At the same time,
however, it also becomes apparent that the text uses and adapts these
references for its own purposes and to forward its own particular agenda,
341
for example the importance of keeping the law and commandments and the
emphasis placed on avoiding idolatry and improper worship. This level of
adaptation can be demonstrated through comparison with both the other
biblical law codes as well as wider cultural covenant / treaty documents.
341
See for example, McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 19.
90
Adapting biblical law codes
Several scholars argue that the Deuteronomic law code (chs 12-26) is a later
and expanded version of the Book of the Covenant (Exod 21-23).
342
Whilst
there is continuity from the Exodus chapters, there is also adaptation and
even innovation. This latter point will be covered in more detail in the
following section.
Although Deuteronomy gives a lot of attention to matters of worship, and
even introduces some aspects that are not found elsewhere (12:11, going to
the place that God will chose as a dwelling for his name; 14:28, the third-year
tithe; 26:5-10, provision of words for the individual worshipper to recite), not
everything that appears elsewhere in the Pentateuch is repeated in
Deuteronomy. For example, although important themes in both Leviticus and
Numbers, Deuteronomy gives no attention to purification rites or guilt
offerings. Similarly, atonement is mentioned only twice in Deuteronomy,
once in Moses’ song (32:43) and once where atonement is sought for an
unsolved murder (21:8). Although instructions are given for the elder to kill a
heifer as part of the ritual prescribed for dealing with the unsolved murder,
this is not a description of a ‘ceremonial slaughter with blood sprinkling’.
343
The neck is broken by the elders and not the priests, and although there is
prayer, again uttered by the elders and not the priests, there is no sense in
which the ‘sin’ of the murderer has been transferred onto the heifer as with
the day of atonement set out in Lev 16. Similarly, where Deuteronomy
342
See for example Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 416; Cairns, Deuteronomy, p. 120; R.
Clements, The Book of Deuteronomy, Epworth Commentaries (Peterborough: Epworth, 2001)
p. 52; E. H. Merrill, Deuteronomy (Nashville, Tennessee: B & H Publishing Group, 1994) p. 22;
J. Wellhausen, Prolegomena to the History of Ancient Israel, trans. W. R. Smith (Gloucester,
Massachusetts: Peter Smith, 1973) p. 402; von Rad, ‘The Problem of the Hexateuch’, p. 28; P.
Jenson, ‘Snakes and Ladders: Levels of Biblical Law’ in ed. K. Dell, Ethical and Unethical in the
Old Testament: God and Humans in Dialogue, (New York, New York | London: T & T Clark,
2010) p. 189; J. G. McConville, ‘Deuteronomy, Book of’ in ed. T. Desmond Alexander & D. W.
Baker, Dictionary of the Old Testament: Pentateuch, (Downer's Grove, Illinois | Nottingham:
IVP, 2003) pp. 183-4. However, Vogt, Deuteronomic Theology, pp. 86-89, believes that the
distinction between the two law codes has been overstated and that they are more similar to
each other in terms of their theological perspective on worship and understanding of God
than is often portrayed.
343
M. Weinfeld, ‘Deuteronomy’s Theological Revolution’ in Bible Review 12:1 1996, p. 41.
91
describes various offerings, the focus of attention is the effect on the people
rather than God, and no comment is made about the ‘daily offerings by the
priests, in which the public had no direct part, even though these were the
principal services conducted at the chosen sanctuary.’
344
Attention
throughout the text is repeatedly drawn towards the community celebrating
as a whole, rather than upon the role and responsibilities of the priests,
Levites and elders.
345
Further adaptation within the law code can be observed in a number of other
places. For example, when the community are gathered to renew the
covenant (29:10) and to hear the public reading of the law (31:12), it is not
just the elders, but also women, children and foreigners who are specifically
included. This is in contrast to Exodus when Moses summons only the elders
or the leaders of the community to hear the law (19:7; 34:31) and to renew
the covenant (24:21). There are two occasions where the whole community
is mentioned in Exodus (35:1, 4), but this is for two particular purposes, first
to hear about the Sabbath commandment and second to commit to build the
tabernacle according to the instructions Moses received.
Similarly, there is adaptation when examining the laws dealing with slavery.
In Exod 21:2 the focus is on the master who buys the person, whereas in Deut
15:12 it is instead on the poor person who sells themselves, or is sold. It is
also in Deut that female slaves are specifically included 15:12, 17 as compared
with Exod 21:1-11. The words used to describe the person in slavery change
as well, from ‘slave’ in Exod 21:2 to ‘brother’ or ‘kinsman’ in Deut 15:12.
346
This subtle change in language and approach is firmly rooted in the theme
that runs throughout Deuteronomy, reminding the people of their own
experience of slavery, and the use of this to influence their behaviour towards
slaves.
344
Tigay, Deuteronomy, p. 122.
345
Block, How I Love your Torah, O Lord, p. 115.
346
Robson, Honey from the Rock, pp. 148-149.
92
There is a clear change and adaptation of the ‘question and answer’ between
the child and parent regarding the purpose of keeping the Passover festival.
Comparing Exod 13:14 with Deut 6:20 reveals how this transforms from being
centred around the ritual context to one focused on education and learning.
This will be explored in more detail in the next chapter which focuses on Deut
6. Given the emphasis on learning and passing on the faith to the next
generation, it is not surprising that in comparison to the equivalent Exodus
passage, Deuteronomy adds that those who are to be appointed leaders
should also be wise.
347
Why does Deuteronomy make these adaptations?
Rather than replacing or supplementing other law codes, the significance of
the deuteronomic law code is its innovative reinterpretation to support its
theological purposes. Berman argues that the idea that Deuteronomy was
written to replace previous law codes is shaped through modern
understandings of law codes as ‘statutory’, in which revisions to laws
automatically negate the previous ones. But this does not reflect the
‘common law’ understanding of law codes as seen in other ANE examples, for
example the Code of Hammurabi. These wider ancient law codes, as well as
the ones in the Pentateuch, should be understood more as ‘prototypical
compendia of legal and ethical norms rather than statutory codes.’
348
Berman argues that revision of an older text does not mean the authority of
the earlier text is thereby rejected, but that the earlier regulations are being
adapted to changing contexts.
349
It is clear from this section that previous
laws and commandments are being adapted to take into account the
different contexts of a settled life in the land, and Berman’s argument here
shows that this is a normal process of adaptation that can be observed in
other law codes in the ANE.
347
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-11, p. 64.
348
J. Berman, ‘Supersessionist or Complementary? Reassessing the Nature of Legal Revision
in the Pentateuchal Law Collections’, JBL 2016 135.2 p. 209.
349
Berman, ‘Supersessionist or Complementary?’, p. 211.
93
The narrative context further supports this idea of adaptation to the changing
context as the people move from the nomadic life style of wandering through
the wilderness to the more settled, agrarian life as they settle in the Promised
Land. The liturgical hermeneutic also supports the idea of holding onto the
importance of the past by bringing it into the present through a liturgical
collapse of time, whilst recognising the presence of continuity, adaptation and
innovation as liturgical characteristics. Fishbane’s description of ‘aggadic
exegesis’ as ‘an ongoing interchange between a hermeneutics of continuity
and a hermeneutics of challenge and innovation.’
350
He describes the extant
tradition as the traditum, and then the traditio becomes the point at which
each generation tests the existing traditions as they seek to confront their
‘religious situation and mundane needs, to reform its values and heritage, and
to renovate its ideals and history.’
351
This is not about rejecting tradition but
adapting ‘ancient tradition to new situations.’
352
One way in which it can be
demonstrated that the past is not being negated but drawn into the present
are the references to the Decalogue and the reception of the law by Moses.
353
This is seen through the narrative setting of the text as the generation about
to enter the Promised Land need to adapt practices to take account of their
changing circumstances.
New concerns in terms of towns, housing and farming need to be brought
into the remit of the law and commandments.
354
As Minette de Tillesse
describes it, this about the transmission of a tradition into a new context.
On y trouve des documents fort anciens, qui ont été repensés,
rajeunis, commentés pour la génération contemporaine. Il ne s’agit
pas d’archives mortes, mais d'une tradition vivante véhiculée par un
people et constamment adaptée au présent.
355
350
M. Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel, (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985) p.
428.
351
Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation, p. 428.
352
Popovic, ‘The Bible as a Book of Memory’, pp. 416-17.
353
R. Achenbach, ‘Review of Deuteronomic Theology and the Significance of the Torah: A
Reappraisal’ in Zeitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 120:1 2008. pp. 162-3.
354
Fretheim, The Pentateuch, p. 170.
355
Minette de Tillesse ‘Sections “tu” et sections “vous” dans le Deutéronome’ p. 81.
94
The text sets out what has been previously received by their ancestors in a
way that both continues the idea of being the received law of God, but whilst
adapting it for the context of later generations.
356
It has also been argued
that through this process of adaptation, Deuteronomy provides a
hermeneutical paradigm of adaptation for ongoing and contemporary
situations.
357
Adapting treaty and covenant documents
ANE covenant or treaty documents have clearly influenced the structure of
Deuteronomy.
358
This can be observed, for example, through the presence of
a historical prologue (Deut 1-4) and the section of blessings and curses (Deut
27:9 – 28:68).
359
What is equally clear, however, is that it is not a simple case
of Deuteronomy following an established covenant or treaty form, but rather
the form has been adapted in ways to support the text’s own theological
priorities. For example, the inclusion of sections on justice and social concern
(e.g. 14:29, the provision of food for the vulnerable in the community) are
different from what would be found normally in a treaty document.
360
Equally, Deuteronomy is longer than any extant covenant document and
contains material like the hymn (Deut 32) that would not usually be found in
this type of document.
361
Given the dissimilarities, it is appropriate to argue
that even if there are clear points of comparison between Deuteronomy and
treaty documents, there are enough points of difference to make the case
that this is not the over-riding form, and that it is not correct to assume that it
is an absolute match.
362
Rather, it is more appropriate to see an association
356
See also von Rad, Deuteronomy, p. 29; Thompson, Deuteronomy, pp. 30; 67-68.
357
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 217; Brueggemann, Deuteronomy, pp. 22-23, 93; Barker,
Deuteronomy, p. 52.
358
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 20; Craigie, Deuteronomy, pp. 17-18, 36; Weinfeld,
Deuteronomy 1-11, p. 6; J. M. Fuhrmann, ‘Deuteronomy 6-8 and the history of interpretation:
An Exposition on the First Two Commandments’ JETS 53, 1, March 2010, pp. 61-62; M. G.
Kline, The Structure of Biblical Authority, (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1972) p. 35;
Thompson, Deuteronomy, pp. 20-21.
359
Woods, Deuteronomy, p. 30.
360
Tigay, Deuteronomy, p. xv; J. H. Hunt, ‘The Deuteronomists as Loyal Opposition’ in The
Asbury Theological Journal, Spring 2001, 56:1, p. 10; Fretheim, The Pentateuch, p. 164.
361
Merrill, Deuteronomy, p. 29.
362
von Rad, Deuteronomy, p. 21; Tigay, Deuteronomy, p. xv.
95
between Deuteronomy and a general treaty tradition, rather than seek to
demonstrate definite connections with specific examples.
363
Deuteronomy is setting out to persuade people about faith and shape their
communal life, rather than to become a simple legal document.
364
This idea
of Deuteronomy as constitution rather than law code recognises the distinct
rhetorical and paraenetic style. One example of this distinct style is the
insistent encouragement to choose and to respond, emphasised by the use of
, calling each generation to the point of decision. The significance of this
exhortation is also seen through the numerous occurrences of (4:1, 5, 10,
14; 5:1, 31; 6:1; 11:19; 14:23; 17:19; 18:9; 20:18; 31:12, 13, 19, 22). This word
indicates the importance placed on teaching and instruction within
Deuteronomy and significantly does not appear in the rest of the
Pentateuch.
365
The paraenetic material in Deut 4, 5-11 is bracketed by
instructions to teach children and embody the laws as part of everyday life
(6:6-9; 11:18-20).
366
It is clear, therefore, that the rhetorical nature of Deuteronomy has also had
an effect on the final form of the text, whether these are to be understood as
a sermon
367
or a farewell speech.
368
The rhetorical aspects of the text are
prominent, and even vital for understanding the function of the text as urging
the readers and hearers on to a point of decision after having had the law
expounded to them. The division of the text along the lines of Moses’
speeches accounts well for much of the textual material and its rhetorical
nature and purpose, but whilst there are passages such as Deut 6 that fit
363
A. D. H. Mayes, Deuteronomy, (London: Oliphants, 1979) pp.33-34; Woods, Deuteronomy,
p. 43.
364
Thompson, Deuteronomy, pp. 12-13; von Rad, Deuteronomy, p. 19; Robson, Honey from
the Rock, pp. 64, 66; S. D. McBride, ‘Polity of the Covenant People: The Book of
Deuteronomy’ in Interpretation 41.3 July 1987. pp. 237, 231; J. G. McConville, Grace in the
End: A Study in Deuteronomic Theology, Studies in Old Testament Biblical Theology (Grand
Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan, 1993) p. 159.
365
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-11, p. 55-56.
366
Nelson, Deuteronomy, p. 2.
367
Minette de Tillesse ‘Sections “tu” et sections “vous” dans le Deutéronome’, p. 75.
368
von Rad, Deuteronomy, pp. 22-23.
96
within this model, others such as Deut 26 do not fit within the model of a
sermon or speech, issuing, as it does, words and actions to be followed by the
people having entered the promised land.
Innovation
Having demonstrated ways in which the text adapts both Pentateuchal
material as well as the legal code structures, it also becomes clear that
Deuteronomy introduces ideas and concepts that are not found elsewhere.
The previous section touched on the way in which the text is delivered as
Moses’ speech to the Israelites. The fact that this is over 90% of the book is
immediately revealing something in its delivery that is distinct from the rest of
the Pentateuch.
369
This deliberate and distinctive rhetorical approach and
language is used within Deuteronomy to bring each new generation to the
point of accepting the law and committing to live their lives according to its
precepts. Something that makes Deuteronomy distinct, particularly in
comparison with Leviticus, is that this rhetorical emphasis is used to focus
attention on to the people, as compared with the focus being on the Priests.
A further way in which Deuteronomy innovates can be seen in a number of
ways in which the text addresses the political structure of the nation in ways
which are not paralleled in the other Pentateuchal law codes. For example, in
the process for dealing with legal matters (17:8-11), the text introduces the
word in the context of judging and cases of laws, which is not used
elsewhere in the Pentateuch. Immediately following this, is the law of the
King (17:14-20), again a provision that is not found elsewhere. Interestingly
though, and as mentioned above, in comparison with other ANE monarchies,
the law found here is remarkably limiting in terms of acquisition of wealth
and goods. Equally, the instructions regarding the Prophet that God will raise
up for the people (18:14-22) is not found elsewhere.
369
G. Fischer SJ, ‘Eigenart und Bedeutung des Deuteronomiums in der Tora’ in
Deuteronomium - Tora für eine neue Generation, Herausgegeben von G. Fischer, D. Markl und
S. Paganini (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2011) p. 16.
97
There are also distinct words that Deuteronomy introduces that are peculiar
to it. For example, the word which appears for the first time in 1:5 is a
new and very unusual word in the Torah.
370
Similarly the root is
significant within Deuteronomy in the way it is used to depict the relationship
between God and Israel not seen previously.
371
The use of this word will be
explored in more detail in the following chapter due to its significance in Deut
6.
One of the striking ways in which Deuteronomy adapts and innovates is in
terms of the treatment of instructions for Passover. Deuteronomy transforms
what had previously been a family celebration located in the home into one
of the three annual festivals, calling everyone to attendance at the central
place of worship. The text also conflates the two originally separate
celebrations of Passover and the feast of unleavened bread, changes that von
Rad describes as ‘especially radical’.
372
Worship is given a distinctive significance in Deuteronomy, its importance in
the law code revealed through repeated calls to seek the place that God will
choose to put his name (12:5, 11, 21; 14:23, 24; 16:2, 6, 11; 26:2). ‘Dtn ist
jenes Buch in der Tora, das wie kein Andres die singuläre Nähe Jhwhs zu Israel
als innerste Mitte des Glaubens beschreibt.’
373
This can be seen through the
way in which concerns for the right worship of God surround the law code
(Deut 12; 26). There is more of a focus on a holistic, emotional response,
rather than just an external obedience. For example, the only uses of the
verb in Deuteronomy (10:16; 30:6) encourage circumcision of the heart,
an attitudinal change rather than an external, physical one. There is also an
emphasis on rejoicing in Deuteronomy, with the verb occurring seven
times, in various forms, as compared to only once in Leviticus.
374
370
Fischer, ‘Eigenart und Bedeutung’, p. 17.
371
Fischer, ‘Eigenart und Bedeutung’, p. 18.
372
von Rad, Deuteronomy, p. 17.
373
Fischer ‘Eigenart und Bedeutung des Deuteronomiums in der Tora’, p. 19.
374
Block, How I Love your Torah, p. 115.
98
Deuteronomy uses innovation and rhetorical technique to present to Israel a
vigorous call to re-engage with their national identity. Whether read as
instilling an identity prior to conquest, or re-energising flagging morale after
the invasion of the Northern kingdom, Deuteronomy's rhetorical innovation
calls each new generation of the people of God to the point of decision.
375
Brueggemann writes persuasively that Deuteronomy looks in two directions,
back to what he calls ‘rootage’ and forwards to ‘crisis’.
376
What is significant
is the innovation and adaptation that is an integral part of the text and the
call to urgent re-engagement with identity and purpose. Deuteronomy holds
together both a demand for faithfulness to the past and a call for innovative
reinterpretation into a new context.
The main focus of chapter 12 is to restrict worship from multiple sites of
sacrifice to the one place that the Lord will choose. This is considered one of
the most important and distinctive aspects of the Deuteronomic law code.
377
It dominates the so-called law-code (Deut 12-26), in which worship is a
major theme, appearing not only in laws that concern worship directly
(Deut 12; 14:22-29; 15:19-23; 16:1-17, 21; 18:1-8; 26:1-15) but also in
a law about administration of justice (17:8-13). It also occurs in one
worship context outside of the law-code (31:11).
378
Chapter 12 draws a sharp distinction between the worship of foreign gods
taking place in a multitude of sites across the promised land with the worship
of God which is to be focused solely in his choice of place. Israel is to seek
after Yahweh in the place that he chooses and not be distracted by the
practices of other nations.
379
This is not an arbitrary command, however, but
is considered vital for maintaining the proper worship of Yahweh.
380
As
Robson argues, the ‘ultimate focus is not Kulteinheit (“unity of worship” at a
375
Nelson, Deuteronomy, p. 6; Vogt, Deuteronomic Theology, pp. 1, 6-14.
376
Brueggemann, Deuteronomy, p. 21.
377
Clements, Deuteronomy, p. 27; Tigay, Deuteronomy, pp. 118-119; von Rad, Deuteronomy,
pp. 88-89.
378
J. G. McConville & J. G. Millar, Time and Place in Deuteronomy, JSOTSup 179 (Sheffield:
Sheffield Academic Press, 1994) p. 89.
379
Woods, Deuteronomy, pp. 193-194.
380
Cairns, Deuteronomy, p. 125.
99
central sanctuary), but Kultreinheit (purity of worship), although unity of
worship is Deuteronomy’s way of ensuring purity of worship.’
381
These
changes are made both for strongly theological and practical reasons. It was
vital that Canaanite places of worship were destroyed and removed, so that
the Israelites did not take over these places and begin adopting their worship
practices and customs, risking engagement in worship of other gods. The
emphasis is put on worshipping God alone, and doing so only at the place that
he will choose to set his name. The importance of this will be explored in
more detail in Chapter Four.
Conclusion to liturgical characteristics in the text
This section has focused on the way in which the text demonstrates the
liturgical characteristics of continuity, adaptation and innovation. The points
raised here will be drawn into the final chapter in order to form a paradigm to
respond to the original question of why there is deadlock in current
discussions of fresh expressions of church in an Anglican context. The section
exploring continuity showed that vital connections are maintained with the
on-going story of the people, for example through repeated references to
Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, as well as Egypt as the place of slavery and
suffering in contrast with the Land of the Promise which will be a place of
deliverance. In exploring adaptation in the text, key points when comparisons
are made between Deuteronomy and the other Pentateuchal law codes
reveal that there are a lack of specific instructions regarding, for example,
purification rites of guilt offerings. The focus of worship is on the community
as a whole and the effect that the worship is to have on them, rather than the
priests and the rituals themselves. The text also showed more inclusivity in
terms of women, children and the marginalised. When comparing the text
with other ANE law codes it becomes clear that Deuteronomy while
influenced by this form goes beyond what would normally be found in a
treaty or covenant document. In terms of innovation, the text has a
381
Robson, Honey from the Rock, p. 130.
100
predominantly rhetorical setting, which is in contrast with the wider
Pentateuch. There is a stress on learning and desire to affect behaviour,
alongside the unusual limits placed on the king and how this begins to reveal
something about the presence of radical democratisation, a concept that will
be explored more fully in Chapter Four.
Conclusion
This chapter has set out the methodology for a liturgical reading of the final-
form of Deuteronomy. It is clear that uses of the terms liturgy or liturgical in
describing the text have been inadequately defined, leading to confusion and
a lack of specificity. The use of the liturgical hermeneutic drawn from Gittoes’
work, as defined in the previous chapter, has clearly shown that
Deuteronomy is indeed a liturgical text and has provided a more a robust
definition for this assertion, and one that relates to contemporary liturgical
studies. The use of the three strands of the liturgical hermeneutic, as well as
the liturgical characteristics, have drawn attention to significant aspects of
the text, its structure and content, which will be drawn into the liturgical
model in the final chapter as a response to the question set out in the first
chapter.
As it is not possible in this study to undertake a detailed reading of the whole
of Deuteronomy, having highlighted some of the key features of the text as a
whole in this chapter, the next two chapters will each take a chapter of
Deuteronomy and examine them in close detail. This work, along with the
findings from this chapter, will be drawn into the model in the final chapter as
a response to the initial question. The next chapter will examine Deut 6, one
of the most significant chapters in Deuteronomy. It is frequently described in
liturgical terms, but it will be shown that this is done with a lack of definition.
The liturgical hermeneutic will then be used to analyse the text and this work,
alongside the use of the liturgical characteristics, will contribute to a
101
discussion of how the idea of ‘love’ in Deut 6 is to be understood, and what
significant insights can be gained from a liturgical reading. Chapter Four will
then undertake an examination of Deut 26, again highlighting ways in which
the term liturgical has been used with a lack of definition, before using the
liturgical hermeneutic to analyse the text. This work, along with particular
insights from other significant chapters within Deuteronomy, will then be
used to argue for a movement of radical democratisation through
Deuteronomy, that is particularly revealed through this hermeneutic. The
final chapter will then draw all of these insights together and return to the
original question of why there is deadlock in current discussions of fresh
expressions of church in an Anglican context, to provide a paradigm that will
enable creative ongoing discussion.
102
Chapter Three: A liturgical
reading of Deuteronomy 6
Introduction to Chapter Three
Deuteronomy 6 has long been viewed as exhibiting liturgical characteristics
and as such is an obvious choice for detailed textual work using the liturgical
hermeneutic outlined in Chapter Two, using the three liturgical strands based
on the work of Gittoes.
Following the translation with accompanying notes, this chapter will examine
the way in which scholars have used the term liturgical when describing Deut
6 this reveals a lack of rigorous methodological support. Having established
this, the three liturgical strands of the hermeneutic will be used to provide a
more robust definition of ‘liturgical’, revealing significant aspects,
characteristics and structural points through this approach. Having provided
this liturgical definition, the chapter will then examine the text for the
liturgical characteristics of continuity, adaptation and innovation. An
important discussion arising from Deut 6 is the how the word is
interpreted and how this relates to the influence of ANE treaty documents on
the text. The arguments in this discussion will be examined, before showing
that a liturgical reading undermines the reliance upon the ANE treaty
documents.
Translation and notes
6:1 And this is the commandment - the statutes and judgments - which the
Lord your God has commanded to teach you to do in the land that you are
crossing over into, to possess it, 2so that you will fear the Lord your God, by
keeping all his statues and his commandments which I am commanding you,
103
you and your children and your children’s children, all the days of your life, so
that your days will be long 3and you may hear, O Israel and be careful to do
them so that it will go well for you, and that you will increase mightily
according to what the Lord the God of your ancestors promised to you, a land
flowing with milk and honey. 4Hear Israel, Yahweh our God is the only Lord,
5and you shall love Yahweh your God with all your heart and with all your soul
and with all your might, 6and these words which I command you today will be
upon your heart. 7Teach them incisively to your children, and speak about
them in your resting in your home, and in your walking on the road, and in
your lying down and your rising up. 8And bind them as a sign upon your hand
and they will be as frontlets between your eyes. 9And you shall write them
upon the door-posts of your house and on your gates. 10And it will be when
the Lord your God will bring you into the land which he swore to your
ancestors, to Abraham, to Isaac and to Jacob, to give to you – cities that are
large and good that you did not build, 11and houses of all good things which
you did not fill, and wells which you did not hew out, vineyards and olive
trees that you did not plant – and you will eat and you will rest, 12be on your
guard lest you forget the Lord who brought you out from the land of Egypt,
from the house of slavery. 13The Lord your God you shall fear, him you will
serve and by his name you will swear. 14Do not walk after foreign gods, gods
of the people who are around you, 15for a jealous god is the Lord your God in
your midst, lest the anger of the Lord your God is kindled against you and
exterminates you from the face of the earth. 16Do not test the Lord your God
like you tested him at Massah. 17You shall surely keep the commandments of
the Lord your God, and his testimony and his statutes which he commanded
you, 18and you shall do what is right and good in the eyes of the Lord so that it
will go well for you, and you may come and possess the good land which the
Lord swore to your ancestors 19by driving out all your enemies from before
you just as the Lord promised. 20When your son asks you in time to come,
saying ‘What mean the testimonies and the statutes and the judgments which
the Lord our God has commanded you?’ 21And you will say to your son, ‘We
were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt and the Lord brought us out from Egypt by a
104
strong hand. 22And the Lord gave great and terrible signs and wonders,
against Egypt, against Pharaoh and against all his household before our eyes,
23and us he brought out from there in order to bring us in to give to us the
land which he swore to our ancestors. 24And the Lord commanded us to do
all these statutes, to fear the Lord our God, for our good, that he might
preserve us alive, like this day. 25And righteousness will it be to us when we
are careful to do all of this commandment before the Lord our God, just as he
has commanded us.’
Notes on the text
6:1
is singular and relates to commandment rather than to statutes and
judgments which are plural. McConville makes this explicit by introducing
‘that is’ between ‘commandment’ and ‘the laws’.
382
6:3
Lundbom
383
and Weinfeld
384
both use ‘greatly’ here. Christensen uses
‘greatly’, but gives ‘mightily’ as an alternative reading in his notes.
385
The
choice was taken here to opt for ‘mightily’, even though ‘greatly’ could be a
better English translation, but ‘mightily’ maintains the connection with the
use of the same Hebrew word in 6:5, where the word ‘great’ would be
inappropriate.
6:4
This is a particularly difficult verse to explain
386
as a number of different
translations are possible
387
and there is no similar construction for
comparison.
388
Waltke and O'Connor state that, for the final four words, the
382
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 137.
383
Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 304.
384
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-11, p. 320.
385
Christensen, Deuteronomy 1:1-21:9, pp. 131-132.
386
Nelson, Deuteronomy, p. 89.
387
Tigay, Deuteronomy, p. 76.
388
B. K. Waltke & M. O’Connor, An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax, (Winona Lake,
Indiana: Eisenbrauns, 1990) p. 135.
105
‘simplest solution is to recognize two juxtaposed verbless clauses’,
389
but they
acknowledge that most scholars do not choose this approach.
It would be difficult to support an argument that ‘Yahweh is our God’ is an
appropriate translation for the first two words as never appears in
Deuteronomy as the predicate to but always in apposition.
390
This
strongly suggests that ‘Yahweh our God’ or ‘The Lord our God’ is a more
appropriate translation for the first two words. Tigay, however, whilst
acknowledging the lack of support within Deuteronomy itself, points to
Zechariah 14 as evidence that reading the phrase as subject and predicate
was therefore ‘the only interpretation that was demonstrably held in biblical
times.’
391
Tigay uses this as evidence to support the interpretation of
‘Yahweh is our God’, but it is questionable as to whether a single usage in
Zechariah is more significant than the internal evidence from Deuteronomy
itself.
Further difficulty arises in establishing the relationship between the first two
and second two pairs, as well as the translation of the second pair. Weinfeld
argues that ‘Yahweh our God, Yahweh is one’ is also not a good translation
because ‘the first subject is discontinued’
392
and argues instead for ‘Yahweh
our God is one Yahweh.’
393
McConville argues for the exact opposite of
Weinfeld, stating that ‘Yahweh our God is one Yahweh’ is ‘least likely because
it involves qualifying a proper name with an attributive adjective.’
394
His
preference is, rather, for ‘The Lord our God, the Lord is one.’ If is an
adjective, then it would be assumed to be predicative rather than attributive
as it does not agree in definiteness with . Williams, however, points out
that is sometimes anarthrous, citing 1 Sam 13:17f in support.
395
389
Waltke & O’Connor, An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax, p. 135.
390
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-11, p. 337; Nelson, Deuteronomy, p. 90.
391
Tigay, Deuteronomy, p. 439.
392
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-11, p. 337.
393
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-11, p. 337.
394
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 141.
395
R. J. Williams, Hebrew Syntax: An Outline, 2nd edn. (Toronto: University of Toronto Press,
1976) p. 19.
106
As well as meaning ‘one’ or ‘first’, can also mean ‘only’ as an attributive
adjective, ‘alone’ or ‘integral’ as a predicative adjective,
396
or ‘alone’ as an
adverb.
397
But Tigay questions the use of to mean alone in this context
rather than using the more usual word for alone, .
398
He also argues that
this verse is describing the relationship between Israel and Yahweh, that he
alone is to be their God, and that this is not a statement of monotheism, as
this was made in 4:35, 39.
399
In seeking to translate , Janzen argues that translations fall into two
categories, either they are asserting something about the nature of God, that
he is ‘one’, or ‘unique’, or that it is a statement about God's relationship to
Israel, ‘Yahweh alone’. He argues that when analysed within ‘the context of
Israel’s covenant traditions’ the verse is seeking to assert something about
Israel’s need for loyalty and faithfulness to Yahweh alone, rather than stating
an abstract idea of God's nature.
400
Tigay also argues that the translation
should not be ‘the Lord is one’ as this makes the second superfluous.
401
However, this is not necessarily a strong argument against this translation as
Hebrew does make use of repetition or seemingly redundant words for
emphasis and rhetorical effect.
402
Von Rad’s argument is subtly different
from Janzen’s two broad categories. Whilst having stated, as Janzen captures,
that the translation ‘Yahweh alone’ is about God's relationship with Israel in
the face of temptations from the Canaanites, he argues that ‘Yahweh, our
God, is one Yahweh’ is actually about stating the ‘oneness of Yahweh’ whilst
396
Waltke & O’Connor, An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax, p. 274.
397
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 141.
398
Tigay, Deuteronomy, p. 439.
399
Tigay, Deuteronomy, p. 76.
400
J. G. Janzen, ‘On the Most Important Word in the Shema (Deuteronomy VI 4-5)’ in Vetus
Testamentum 37.3 1987, p. 280
401
Tigay, Deuteronomy, p. 439.
402
See for example Waltke and O’Connor's discussion of the pleonastic pronoun in Gen. 36:8,
Waltke & O’Connor, An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax, p. 131.
107
numerous traditions and sanctuaries of Yahweh were in existence. Both of
these positions are coherent within deuteronomic theology.
403
This verse may well be deliberately amphibological in attempting to record
something that cannot be captured, in that it is making a statement about
God. So, for example, as Nelson states, ‘one’ may indicate Israel’s unique
relationship with Yahweh, or that he is ‘incomparable’, meaning that there is
no god like him, or that it is a statement about his character, ‘Yahweh’s
oneness signifies a personal integrity that allows for no duplicity in promise or
intention.’
404
Firth, drawing on Empson’s work on ambiguity, provides a
definition of a particular type of intentional authorial ambiguity defined as
‘type 3 ambiguity’, where writers ‘draw on and use multiple meanings
inherent in words but without actually resolving them one way of another.’
405
This intentional ambiguity then remains open to the various different
interpretations as each is able to state something different about Yahweh’s
nature, character and relationship to Israel. Indeed, this particular use of
ambiguity stresses the value of holding the different potential meanings
together for the reader.
406
So whilst the exact meaning is difficult, if not
impossible categorically to supply, the sense that the phrase conveys is
supremely significant. Whether or not this is understood as monotheism or
simply that Yahweh is the only God that Israel is to acknowledge, he is, for
them, first and ultimate. This theological sense is clearly coherent with the
deuteronomic emphases in the wider text. In terms of liturgy, this then
leaves the phrase open to wonder and contemplation, giving a call to worship
that encourages thought and reflection, albeit within particular parameters,
rather than one that sets out a categorical fact that does not then encourage
any further wonder.
6:10
403
von Rad, Deuteronomy, p. 63.
404
Nelson, Deuteronomy, p. 89.
405
D. G. Firth, ‘Ambiguity’ in ed. D. G. Firth & J. A. Grant, Words and the Word: Explorations in
Biblical Interpretation and Literary Theory, (Nottingham: Apollos, 2008) p. 165.
406
Firth, ‘Ambiguity’, p. 165.
108
There is disagreement as to whether God is giving the land or the cities.
Weinfeld translates the verse ‘into the land...to give you - great and
flourishing cities that you did not build’,
407
but this makes an awkward
incomplete sentence in English. McConville too has God giving the land, and
translates the verse ‘into the land...that he would give you, a land of fine,
large cities’.
408
This clarifies the sentence, unlike Weinfeld, but does mean
inserting the words ‘a land of’ into the text which is not there in the original. I
have chosen to translate the verse as God giving the cities rather than the
land, which Lundbom also does,
409
and is supported by Josh 21:2.
6:19
I have translated this verse ‘to drive out all your enemies from before you just
as the Lord promised’, whereas McConville has ‘and you will drive out your
enemies before you - as the LORD also promised.’
410
Including the words ‘and
you will’ makes a strong connection between the action in v.18 (‘and you will
come’) and this current verse. However, in v. 18 the two verbs
are both Qal perfect 2ms with prefix, whereas the first word in v. 19 is
a Qal infinitive construct with a prefix, therefore ‘to drive out’ rather than
‘and you will drive out’ indicates this difference in the original.
6:20
Translations of this verse insert the word ‘mean’ (or ‘meaning’) which is not
explicitly in the original text. Lundbom states that the ‘interrogative pronoun
, normally “what?” can be translated “why?” or “what mean(s)?” For the
407
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-11, p. 330.
408
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 137.
409
Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 137.
410
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 137.
109
latter translation, which suits the present context (AV and all modern English
versions), see also Exod 12:26; 13:14; Josh 4:6.’
411
6:22
McConville introduces the word ‘plagues’ into the sentence that is absent
from the Hebrew.
412
Neither Lundbom or Christensen have done this.
413
The use of ‘liturgical’ as a description of Deuteronomy 6 in
wider scholarship
Several scholars either specifically use the word liturgical in their analysis of
Deuteronomy 6, or more broadly describe a cultic context as significant in
interpreting the chapter.
414
When this language is examined closely,
however, it becomes clear that there is a general lack of definition as to what
the term or concept means. Where there is occasionally a definition
suggested, there is no explanation why particular criteria are appropriate in
designating something as liturgical.
In ‘The Problem of the Hexateuch’, von Rad argues for the significance of
regarding Deut 26:5b-9 as a short historical creed.
415
Although Deut 26 will
be the focus of Chapter Four, it is helpful to reference this discussion here as
von Rad asserts a strong connection between these verses in Deut 26 and
Deut 6:20-24. He views these latter verses as distinct from the surrounding
paraenetic material, with the introductory words showing that ‘it can be
recognised as a direct quotation of more of less stereotyped material.’
416
Whether or not von Rad’s analysis of the historicity of these two passages is
411
Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 324.
412
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 137.
413
Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 323; Christensen, Deuteronomy 1:1-21:9, p. 149.
414
see for example, A. C. Welch, ‘The Purpose of Deuteronomy, Chapter vi’ in The Expository
Times 1929/30 Vol. 41, p. 551.
415
von Rad, ‘The Form-Critical Problem of the Hexateuch’ pp. 3-4.
416
von Rad, ‘The Form-Critical Problem of the Hexateuch’ p. 5.
110
correct is not the focus here, rather it is the undefined way in which he
describes these two passages, along with Josh 24:2b-13, as creedal or
liturgical.
Von Rad uses the phrase ‘liturgical formulation’
417
to describe 26:5b-9, but he
does not specify what it is about this text, or later about 6:20-24 or Josh
24:2b-13, that makes them identifiably ‘liturgical’. He does add, in a footnote
to this comment, that the ‘rhythmical and alliterative character of the
opening phrases in particular reveal its antiquity.’
418
This, however, is a
comment defending his assertion regarding the age of these verses and not a
description of its liturgical nature. He goes on to summarise the content of
these three passages, describing the way they each outline God's saving
action in the past, and have a communal rather than individual focus. I will
show below that these characteristics can be seen to indicate that a passage
is liturgical, but this is not a point that he makes, and ultimately this particular
paragraph remains mostly descriptive.
419
Von Rad does begin to make a
connection between liturgy as being something that draws attention to the
salvation history of God and his people. But again this remains somewhat
implicit and beyond this there is no detail provided as to what specifically
makes this chapter identifiably liturgical.
Verses 4-9
Von Rad argues that the phrase ‘Hear, O Israel’ is a ‘stereotyped formula in
Deuteronomy (5.1; 9.1; 20.3; 27.9)’
420
and ‘probably’ a summons to gather for
worship.
421
Other than the repeated nature of an important phrase through
the book, von Rad does not give any other evidence to support his argument.
In response to von Rad, McBride states that whilst this is not unlikely, ‘it is a
generalization which sheds little light on the meaning and possible origin of
417
von Rad, ‘The Form-Critical Problem of the Hexateuch’ p. 4.
418
von Rad, ‘The Form-Critical Problem of the Hexateuch’ p. 4n.
419
von Rad, ‘The Form-Critical Problem of the Hexateuch’ pp. 4-5.
420
von Rad, Deuteronomy, p. 63.
421
von Rad, Deuteronomy, p. 63.
111
6:4.’
422
The repeated use of an idiosyncratic phrase throughout
Deuteronomy, of which there are several, is not sufficient evidence alone to
determine an originating context of worship, and von Rad is right to be
cautious in suggesting this as possibility rather than certainty.
In trying to explain why he regards vv.4-9 as having ‘all the marks of a well-
crafted liturgy’,
423
Lundbom details the way these verses move from
confession, through instruction to love Yahweh, and finally a commitment to
follow his commandments.
424
This could well be a liturgical structure, but he
does not indicate how this is connected to liturgical studies, nor if he
therefore considers every report of confession and commitment to Yahweh to
be understood as liturgical. Neither does he state whether a passage has to
have all of these elements, in this order to be liturgical.
Moberly highlights the difficulty that exists in discerning the original context
for the Shema, important for translation and interpretation, given the life
these verses gained in Jewish religious practice, and also the later association
for Christians with Trinitarian theology and creedal statements.
425
Given the
importance of the Shema, this text will be discussed in more detail below,
when examining Moran’s argument and interpretation, but it is important to
show here that, as Moberly states, discerning an origin for these verses, and
whether or not that is liturgical, is not a simple task.
Verse 13
Both Christensen
426
and Craigie
427
point to the words and in v. 13
to show that this verse is closely related to worship of God. This could well be
true, but there is always a risk in arguing that the use of one particular word is
422
S. D. McBride, ‘The Yoke of the Kingdom: An Exposition of Deuteronomy 6:4-5’ in
Interpretation 27:3, 1973, p. 289.
423
Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 316.
424
Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 316.
425
R. W. L. Moberly, Old Testament Theology: Reading the Hebrew Bible as Christian
Scripture, (Baker Academic: Grand Rapids, Michigan, 2013) pp. 10-12.
426
Christensen, Deuteronomy 1:1-21:9, p. 147.
427
Craigie, Deuteronomy, p. 173.
112
sufficient criterion to indicate a given characteristic of the text. Driver,
similarly, argues that the word is primarily associated with ‘executing
definite and formal acts of worship’, supporting this from a number of verses
in Exodus (Exod 3:12; 4:23; 7:16; 10:26; 13:5; 12:2, 30). He further argues
from Numbers that the word is associated with the technical duties of priests
and Levites (e.g. Num 4:47; 16:9).
428
Whilst there is a clear association
between this word and formal worship, particularly as noted by Driver in both
Exodus and Numbers, Ringgren argues that whilst is used in
Deuteronomy almost entirely with Yahweh as subject it ‘far transcends any
specifically cultic context’.
429
In other words, is used in Deuteronomy
beyond merely liturgical settings, making it difficult to argue with any degree
of certainty that the use of this word by itself would mean that those verses
are liturgical.
430
Verses 20-25
Several scholars argue for a liturgical or ritualistic context as the setting for
the child’s question in vv. 21-24,
431
although there is disagreement about its
historicity.
432
Weinfeld states that vv. 20-25 are a ‘liturgical declaration of a
distinctly didactic character’,
433
arguing that a liturgical setting demonstrates
the ‘oratorical style of the deuteronomic school’.
434
He also notes that there
428
S. R. Driver, Deuteronomy, International Critical Commentary (Edinburgh: T & T Clark,
1895) p. 94.
429
H. Ringgren, 'āḇaḏ' in ed. G. Johannes Botterweck, H. Ringgren & H-J Fabry, Theological
Dictionary of the Old Testament Vol. X (Eerdmans: Grand Rapids, Michigan | Cambridge,
1999) p. 386.
430
For the use of through Deuteronomy in clearly non-liturgical contexts see 5:13; 15:12,
18, 19; 20:11; 21:3, 4; 28:39, 48.
431
Christensen, Deuteronomy 1:1-21:9, p. 150; Thompson, Deuteronomy, p. 126; Weinfeld,
Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, p. 34.
432
Woods views vv. 20-25 as a ‘historical credo’ (Woods, Deuteronomy, p. 139). Cairns also
argues that vv. 21-22 are ‘creedal’, but argues against separating them from the wider
context (Cairns, Deuteronomy, p. 87). Mayes argues that a connection with a specific ritual,
which he identifies in vv. 4-9 can be observed, when vv. 10-19 are viewed as a late insertion
(Mayes, Deuteronomy, p. 179). McConville raises fundamental questions, however, as to
whether there is sufficient evidence to support the claim that this was an original creed
(McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 144).
433
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, p. 34.
434
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, p. 34.
113
is an acknowledgement of aspects that appear to have ‘national and historical
significance’.
435
It is clear that the stress of these verses is on the importance
of passing on the faith to the next generation, and continuing the
communication of this national and historical significance that Weinfeld has
identified. Christensen suggests that the child's question in vv. 21-24 could
indicate ‘a worship setting parallel to the beginning of the Passover seder
meal.’
436
Similarly, Thompson sees in these verses a ‘liturgical formulation’
through recital of the facts.
437
The importance of the child’s question in these
verses will be explored more fully below, but for the immediate purposes it
remains clear that use of the word ‘liturgical’ or the description of something
as having a worshipping context is being used here in a generalised way.
There is no specific identification of liturgical features, or sufficient
explanation as to how these particular features can be used to identify a text
as liturgical.
Reception
There is evidence for a liturgical reception of the Shema in Jewish practice,
but a detailed examination of the evidence for this reveals that it is not as
clear as some scholars have argued. The question also remains, however, as
to whether a later liturgical reception of a text can be used as an argument
for an original liturgical context.
The appearance of the Shema in the Nash Papyrus, a document from the
second half of the C2nd BC,
438
is used by Lundbom
439
and Block
440
to
demonstrate the liturgical significance of these verses. Weinfeld argues that
an additional title at 6:4
441
found in the Nash Papyrus, as well as in the LXX, is
‘a liturgical addition serving as an introduction to the Shema proclamation’,
435
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, p. 33.
436
Christensen, Deuteronomy 1:1-21:9, p. 150.
437
Thompson, Deuteronomy, p. 126
438
Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 309.
439
Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 309.
440
Block, How I Love your Torah, O Lord, p. 75.
441
“And these are the laws and the rules that Moses [YHWH in the LXX] commanded [the
Israelites] in the desert when they left Egypt”.
114
which he does not consider to be genuine.
442
He uses this in support of
understanding 6:4 as liturgical, but all this evidence can actually be used to
show for certain, is that there is a later textual addition, in some versions,
that may be considered to be liturgical.
The use of the Nash Papyrus to support a liturgical reading is not as
straightforward as has been suggested, as ‘there is very little of the Hebrew
text of the Shema preserved. In fact all we have is the final word on line 23
and the six words on line 24 (two in partial form).’
443
Foster goes on to argue
that what the text reveals is ‘diversity in the tradition surrounding this
supposedly foundational liturgical text.’
444
He ends his article by arguing that
it is impossible to draw any strong conclusions about the purpose of the Nash
Papyrus, but points to the fact that a scribe at some point had the freedom to
bring different passages together for his particular purpose.
445
So whilst this
document may well show a later use of the Shema, it is difficult to know with
certainty the purpose of the document, and difficult to use this to draw any
firm conclusions about the original purpose, setting or context of Deut 6.
McBride uses the Mishnah Tamid 4:3-5:1 to support his argument for a
liturgical tradition for 6:4-9, alongside other verses.
446
He writes that ‘the
liturgy associated with the daily Temple sacrifice included the reading of four
biblical passages which are: the Decalogue, the Shema, Deuteronomy 11:13 (-
21) and Numbers 15:37 (41).’
447
He also suggests that it was not just 6:4 that
was used but possibly 6:4-9 as a whole.
448
McBride is right in showing that
the Mishnah Tamid specifically mentions the recital of the Shema in two
places, 4:3T and 5:1B within the Fifth Division, ‘Holy Things’.
449
But,
442
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-11, p. 337.
443
P. Foster, ‘Why Did Matthew get the Shema wrong? A Study of Matthew 22:37’ JBL 122, 2,
2003, p. 328.
444
Foster, ‘Why Did Matthew get the Shema wrong?’ p. 328.
445
Foster, ‘Why Did Matthew get the Shema wrong?’ p. 328.
446
McBride, ‘The Yoke of the Kingdom’, p. 275.
447
McBride, ‘The Yoke of the Kingdom’, p. 275.
448
McBride, ‘The Yoke of the Kingdom’, p. 276.
449
J. Neusner, The Mishnah: A New Translation, (New Haven | London: Yale University Press,
1988) p. 869.
115
significantly, Foster challenges the assumption of the reliability of using this
early evidence to assume a stable and widespread use of the Shema in the
first century. He argues that the ‘final form of the Mishnah cannot be dated
before the beginning of the third century’ and that although we know from
this that there was a rabbinic practice of saying the Shema this may not be
representative of the behaviour of the majority of Jews at this time.
450
As with Foster, Schiffman also points to a certain degree of variety in practices
up to the late Second Temple period, continuing to indicate that there was
variety and flexibility in practice, and not an early established shared pattern
to which everyone conformed. As with the phylacteries that have been
discovered, Qumran mezuzot contain additional passages such as Exod 20.1-
14 and Deut 6.6-18, the Ten Commandments. ‘The presence of mezuzot with
additional passages and in plene, sectarian orthography alongside mezuzot in
accord with Pharisaic regulations demonstrates that both types of mezuzot
were in use in Second Temple times.’
451
What these discussions of both the Nash Papyrus and the Mishnah Tamid
demonstrate is not the sure and certain support for an original liturgical
context for the Shema, but rather an open process of adaptation in the
development of the liturgical use of this verse. The Church of England liturgy
for Holy Communion and Morning and Evening Prayer on a Sunday contains
over 100 direct scriptural quotations, adaptations or allusions.
452
A specific
example in an option given for the invitation to communion has the response,
‘Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word, and I shall be
healed.’
453
This is clearly an adaptation of phrases from Luke’s account of the
healing of the Centurion’s servant. This later use does not mean that that
original setting of Luke 7:1-10 is itself liturgical, and shows that a later
450
Foster, ‘Why Did Matthew get the Shema wrong?’ p. 322.
451
L. H. Schiffman, ‘Phylacteries and Mezuzot’ in ed. L. H. Schiffman & J. C. VanderKam,
Encyclopaedia of the Dead Sea Scrolls, vol. 2 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000) p. 677.
452
For further details of the use of scriptural quotations in the Eucharistic texts of Common
Worship see P. Gooder & M. Perham, Echoing the Word: The Bible in the Eucharist, (London:
SPCK, 2013).
453
Church of England Liturgy and Ritual, Common Worship, p. 180.
116
liturgical reception of a text cannot automatically be used as evidence of an
original liturgical context.
Conclusion to the use of ‘liturgical’ as a description of Deuteronomy 6 in
wider scholarship
This exploration has shown that the term ‘liturgical’, or the idea of a liturgical
context, has been used in relation to Deut 6 in largely undefined ways. There
has been a lack of clarity and definition as to what specifically makes a text
‘liturgical’. When an attempt has been made to provide criteria there is no
reason provided as to why this identifies something as liturgical, or how this is
connected with wider liturgical scholarship. Some scholars have tried to use
the occurrence of single words, stereotyped phrases or didactic
characteristics as an indication of liturgy. None of these, however, can be
used by themselves to show that a text is liturgical, and again there is a lack of
clarity as to why these particular words or phrases should be considered as
liturgical. Similarly, the argument of a later liturgical reception cannot prove
for certain that the original context of a verse is liturgical. What this shows is
that the term ‘liturgical’, or the idea of a liturgical origin, becomes a hollow
term that is filled by a scholar’s own perception of what might make
something liturgical. This makes it much less useful for biblical studies, and
clearly demonstrates the need for coherent and clear criteria for showing
whether a text demonstrates liturgical characteristics or not.
Gittoes’ three strands
Having shown that the term ‘liturgical’ has been used in a broadly undefined
way when discussing Deut 6, this next section will apply the liturgical
hermeneutic detailed in Chapter Two to this text. Each of the three strands of
the hermeneutical model will be examined in turn, demonstrating how each
one is clearly present in the text, before the next section then explores the
presence of the liturgical characteristics of continuity, adaptation and
innovation. This methodology particularly draws attention to the importance
117
of passing on the faith to the next generation and the stress that this chapter
places on this instruction, and as such this will also be explored in detail.
The Importance of remembering
As stated in Chapter One, anamnesis, as a liturgical term, is understood as an
active remembering that makes the past event a present reality.
454
This
concept is important to both Christian worship and Israelite tradition,
455
as
Thompson states, in biblical faith ‘the remembrance of God's past mercies
and delivering acts is fundamental.’
456
There is no need for the root to appear in these verses to know that the
full focus is impressing upon the Israelites the vital importance of practices
that will remind them, and their children, of the importance of remembering
God's rescue of his people from Egypt. The use of the word here is part
of the deuteronomic rhetoric, seeking to draw each new generation to this
moment of instruction and commitment to remember and to pass on the
faith. Similarly, the use of second masculine singular verbal forms and second
masculine singular pronominal suffixes continues this stress of the instruction
‘to you’ for each individual, as well as for the people as a whole.
The emphasis on the importance of remembering is also shown through the
continuation of the imperatival force of the verb from v.4 to the verbs at the
beginning of vv.6-9. The command is to put these practices into place, by
making physical signs, in order to remember ‘these words’, which are the
commandments mentioned in v.1. These verses seek to ensure that
remembering becomes part of everyday life, marked by physical signs on an
individual’s person, their home and their gates. It is unclear, though, whether
these instructions were intended to be interpreted literally or were rhetorical
hyperbole.
457
But, what is important is that in Deuteronomy, as Reeder
454
von Allmen, Worship, p. 34.
455
Rienstra & Rienstra, Worship Words, p. 76.
456
Thompson, Deuteronomy, p. 124.
457
For more detail of this point see McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 142.
118
describes it, ‘the covenant is preserved by being woven into the daily life of
the family, firmly placing Israel’s relationship with God at the very center of
social existence.’
458
The means of remembering God's deliverance was
intended to be an integral part of everyday life.
A significant example of remembering is the child’s question in v.20, with the
emphasis on sharing the people’s history with the next generation. As
Thompson states, this ‘recitation’ in response to the child’s question is done
through the story of redemption, and so ‘belief in God was thus expressed not
in terms of an abstract formulation, but in terms of God’s dynamic activity.’
459
It is this repetition, argues Reeder that passes on the promise of God, given
initially to their ancestors, to the next generations.
460
The community had a
responsibility
461
to the younger generation to pass on their ‘heritage’,
462
and
these verses show that it was to be deliberately and intentionally managed.
This question has been adapted from the equivalent text in Exod 13:14, and
this will be examined in more detail in the section exploring adaptation in the
text below.
This exploration of the concept of memory within chapter 6 shows that not
only is this clearly present in the text but is significant to the chapter’s
purpose and theology.
Liturgical collapse of time
The second of Gittoes’ liturgical strands is the collapse of time, the pulling
together of past, present and future. One of the most significant ways this is
indicated in Deuteronomy is through the use of the word . A particularly
common usage of this word within Deuteronomy is to convey actuality,
seeking to ensure that ‘the crucial importance of “today,” the present, for the
458
C. A. Reeder, The Enemy in the Household: Family Violence in Deuteronomy and Beyond,
(Baker Academic: Grand Rapids, Michigan, 2012) p. 20.
459
Thompson, Deuteronomy, p. 126.
460
Reeder, The Enemy in the Household, p. 51.
461
Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 325.
462
Welch, ‘The Purpose of Deuteronomy, Chapter vi’, p. 550.
119
future is revealed’.
463
This connection between different time frames, and
the significance that one point of time has for another, is frequently carried
by this word throughout the text.
yôm as nomen regens can take on an historical aspect in the context of
an attributive nomen rectum: one might speak, for example, of “the
day that the LORD spoke to you at Horeb out of the midst of the fire”
(Dt. 4:15) or “the day when you came out of the land of Egypt” (Dt.
16:3; to be “remembered” [zāḵar] cultically; cf. the frequent use of
actualizing hayyôm Deuteronomy). In this way special times were
indicated that had important (transforming) significance for the life of
the people; what was important, however, was not the actual point in
time, but the event recorded.
464
This word is used three times in Deut 6 (vv.6, 24 twice, one of which is plural).
It is interesting that commentators do not appear to comment on the use of
in either of these two verses, though understandably there is much
within these and surrounding verses that is also significant to discuss. This
liturgical reading of the text is, therefore, highlighting an important aspect of
the text that has been regularly passed over.
Both vv.6 and 24 contain synonyms for ‘law’ ( v.6; v. 24) a
central focus within Deuteronomy, and both have a future orientation,
although this is more explicit in v.24. By using the word the rhetorical
effect draws current and future readers or hearers into recognising both the
significance of remembering and obeying the commandments into the future,
but also of committing to them at the present moment. The ‘present
moment’, though, is not just the present of those hearing or reading these
words, but becomes fused with the original ‘present moment’ of the narrative
setting, of Moses addressing the Israelites on the cusp of entry into the land.
Nelson writes that vv.2-3 move ‘Yahweh’s past act of commanding (v.1) to the
present discourse of Moses and on to the extended time and wonderful
463
M. Sæbø ‘ yôm’ in ed. G J Botterweck and H. Ringgren, trans D. E. Green TDOT vol. VI
(Eerdmans: Grand Rapids, Michigan, 1990) p. 26.
464
Sæbø, ‘ yôm’, p. 30.
120
locale of Israel’s obedience. Reference to the land and to future generations
forges a rhetorical connection to those reading the book.’
465
In other words
the idea of ‘collapsing time’ is an intentional technique drawing the
timeframe of each successive reader into dialogue with the timeframe of the
narrative. Similarly, McBride notes that the ‘opening words of Deuteronomy
6:4 are a summons to those who would be Israel in any age’.
466
He goes on to
state that this is achieved through the idea of hearing as ‘an act of initiation
and assent’.
467
This ‘active hearing’ continues to form the community of not
only those who heard the original words and those who will hear in the
future. Lundbom too, argues that , although literally meaning
‘tomorrow’, is also used to refer to the distant future, supporting this by
reference to Exod 13:14, Josh. 4:6, 21; 22:24, 27-28.
468
A key part of the
rhetorical strategy of this chapter, then, is this ‘collapse of time’ in order to
draw each new generation into the world of this text.
McConville also shows the way in which the language of the final few verses
of this chapter draws together the past, present and future. For example, the
future-orientated words in vv.20, 24 focus on the life to come in the land,
469
these ‘verses extend the thought, establishing a connection between the past
(exodus), and the future (possession of the land).’
470
This connection is also
emphasised by the way in which those addressed are both simultaneously
those who were delivered from Egypt, those who were given the law, and
those who will go on to live out the law in the new land.
Bruckner points to the importance of keeping the commandments of God,
stating that one ‘cannot overestimate the centrality of the memory of the
Exodus and the consolidation and formation of a new sociality created in
465
Nelson, Deuteronomy, p. 88.
466
McBride, ‘The Yoke of the Kingdom’, p. 291.
467
McBride, ‘The Yoke of the Kingdom’, p. 291.
468
Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 324.
469
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 139.
470
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 144.
121
Israel through the giving of the Torah (instruction).’
471
As Bruckner
articulates, the past is remembered but crucially is done so purposefully, in
order to shape and form the community and to cultivate obedience to God’s
instructions and commandments. Bruckner, within his specific context of
writing about a whole and healthy person, draws out the stress placed on the
way that remembering past choices forms ‘a habit that shapes one’s own life
decisions. It calls one to invest one’s heart-mind in the tradition of good
choice by remembering God's acts of deliverance and rehearsing the choices
of the past.’
472
Bruckner’s work here, although not his principal aim, also
demonstrates the close connection between this liturgical strand and that of
the connection between worship and mission.
Woods follows Friedman in arguing that v.5 should be translated as ‘and you
shall love the Lord your God’,
473
rather than simply ‘love the Lord your
God’.
474
This translation shows how the Hebrew text continues the force of the
opening imperative (or command) hear at the beginning of verse 4,
and links that to the command to love God in this verse. Further, the
phrase ‘and you shall love’ is the first of seven perfect verbs (all 2ms)
prefaced with and, all with imperative force, linking verses 5-9. The
call to love God is the appropriate response to all that verse 4 implies
about the uniqueness of Yahweh himself, as this relates to Israel, both
past, present and future.
475
As Woods makes clear, the rhetorical force of this passage draws these three
time-frames together. His work, as with that of Bruckner’s, shows how this
collapsing of time is closely connected with what was expected of Israel not
only in terms of worship but also in diverse areas of their lives as they lived
out their identity. This third liturgical strand will now be explored in detail.
471
J. K. Bruckner, ‘A Theological Description of Human Wholeness in Deut 6’ in Ex Auditu vol.
21 2005, pp. 6-7
472
Bruckner, ‘A Theological Description’, p. 8.
473
italics mine.
474
Woods, Deuteronomy, p. 136.
475
Woods, Deuteronomy, p. 136.
122
The connection between worship and mission
The third liturgical strand identifies the vital connection made between the
community’s worship and the way they are to live. In Deut 6 there is a
particular focus and emphasis on compelling the people to continue to fear
the Lord and follow his commandments. As described in Chapter Two, the
meaning of the word mission follows Wright’s model, understood as the
purpose and function of the people of God, rather than proselytising.
476
What
is being explored in particular is the connection between the worship of the
community and the way they were to live out their ‘mission’.
Throughout Deut 6 the memory of rescue from slavery in Egypt is used as a
continual repeated refrain underpinning the vital importance for Israel to live
as God is instructing them. As Robson puts it, the Exodus is ‘the root both of
profound theology and of moral obligation.’
477
It is from this fundamental
starting point that Israel discovers its identity and its responsibility, and these
are inextricably linked. As Israel is reminded of their identity as slaves
redeemed by God, so they are to worship him and live their lives according to
the commandments that he is giving to them through Moses. If they live in
this way, then they will receive God’s blessing and, significantly, the nations
around them will observe and learn about Yahweh through both their
worship and their social and communal ethic.
The repetition of the exodus theme, however, is not just historically
informative, but is used to influence Israel's behaviour,
478
particularly in
relation to the treatment of the poorest and most vulnerable in society. As
Nelson observes, the call to hear in v.4 ‘seeks to evoke both attentiveness and
obedient response: hear that you may respond (cf. 20:3-4; 27:9-10).’
479
Lapsley, also, points to the way in which the emotional memory of the
Israelites is stirred, ‘out of this affective response will arise love for the
476
Wright, ‘Mission as a Matrix for Hermeneutics and Biblical Theology’, p. 137.
477
Robson, Honey from the Rock, pp. 35, 36.
478
Robson, Honey from the Rock, p. 64.
479
Nelson, Deuteronomy, p. 91.
123
stranger, which then takes form in practical action.’
480
It is their memory of
slavery in Egypt that prompts them to treat rightly the stranger amongst
them. Bruckner argues that this connection between worship and mission is
central to the wider Old Testament, as can be demonstrated through
prophetic outrage when ‘the ethics of daily action and worship become
separated in Israel’.
481
The whole of life was drawn into the orbit of worship, with different aspects
of daily work, as well as cultic practices, showing the strong connection in
Deuteronomy between the worshipping life of the community and the
practical ethic through which they were to live. ‘Again, as elsewhere, each
generation is to teach the next. YHWH did not intend the covenant to be
treated as esoteric doctrine, but to become the basis of living life.’
482
Weinfeld observes that vv.20-25 are not only related to the Passover but call
for observation of the law as a whole, and so ‘education in Deuteronomy is
not linked to Passover alone but is a process going on throughout the year.’
483
Internal structure of Deut 6
The structure of this chapter intentionally emphasises this crucial link
between worshipping God and following his commandments. The structure
and rhetorical devices are employed to insist that worship and service are
fundamental to the future and identity of the people. This emphasis is
brought about through repetition and development, whilst the chapter as a
whole is unified by an inclusio that demonstrates these. V.1 contains the
phrase this is repeated in v.25, but in this second verse it is no
longer simply just this commandment, but has become .
This repetition is sometimes missed in translation as some opt for ‘these’
rather than ‘this’ in v.1, influenced no doubt by the plural of statutes and
480
J. E. Lapsley, ‘Feeling our way: Love for God in Deuteronomy’ in Catholic Bible Quarterly,
vol. 65, no. 3 July 2003, p. 363.
481
Bruckner, ‘A Theological Description’, p. 13.
482
M. E. Biddle, Deuteronomy, Smyth & Helwys Bible Commentary (Macon, Georgia: Smyth &
Helwys, 2003) p. 124.
483
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-11, p. 357.
124
judgements, and some, for example the NIV, use ‘law’ rather than
‘commandment’ in v.25. Keeping the same words ‘this’ and ‘commandment’
in English helps to set out the parameters of the inclusio.
This repetition with development then carries on into vv.2 and 24. Both
contain a Qal version of the verb and point to the blessings of long life
that this obedience will bring. So, in v.2 the phrase occurs, but in
v.24 it is . This repetition is also frequently missed in
translation as rendering the repetition in v.24 into English is difficult. There is
also an important rhetorical transition from a 2MS suffix in v.2 to a 1CP suffix
in v.24. In an obvious way, this change in v.24 occurs because this verse is
part of the recorded speech of what will be said in response to the child's
question, and therefore naturally becomes ‘us’ rather than ‘you’. But this is
also an important rhetorical development in the repetition and development.
When the themes of blessing due to obedience are returned to in vv.24-25, it
is no longer a simple, didactic instruction from Moses to the people, but has
become a dynamic ‘we will keep the commandments’ just as God ‘has
commanded us’. Also this is not simply repetition of a theme, but throughout
the chapter when the theme returns in the second half it is an active
encouragement ‘to do’, not simply an exhortation to hear. When considering
the added dimension of later readers and hearers, it is again an example of
Deuteronomy’s urgent motivational rhetoric that draws each new generation
to the point of decision and commitment.
The rest of the chapter can be seen as continuing this repeated development,
with vv.3-6 introducing a theme that is developed in vv.17-19, and then the
theme of vv.7-9 developed in vv.21-25. The partnered verses 3-6 and 17-19
are focused on keeping the commandments so that life will go well in the
land. There is a distinct transition from the first section where the verbs are
‘hear’, ‘observe’, ‘increase mightily’, ‘hear’, ‘love’ and ‘be’. These, in general,
give a passive impression, with a focus on hearing and observing. This creates
a particular contrast to the verbs in vv.17-19 when the concept of keeping the
125
commandments, and long life in the land return. The verbs here are ‘do’,
‘come’, ‘dwell’ and ‘drive out’, indicating more action than passive receiving,
so whilst the theme is returned to, there is again a greater emphasis on active
engagement. This intensity, compelling the people to follow the
commandments, is demonstrated through the construction
which in Deuteronomy is unique to 6:17.
484
This then gives a middle section of vv. 10-16 that describes the blessings that
God will give to the people if they are obedient, and also the warnings not to
turn away from following God. This concept of blessings partnered with
warnings is then developed in more detail in later chapters of Deuteronomy.
Through this reading, v.13 becomes the central verse of 10-16, and this is
highly significant because it is the only other verse in the chapter that uses
the word besides vv.2 and 24. The focus of v.13 is on both worshipping
and serving God, the two themes that are stressed as being connected in this
liturgical strand. So at the beginning, centre and end of the chapter is a focus
on worshipping God and living according to the law.
This pattern of repeating a theme that then puts into practice what has been
introduced in the earlier paired verses continues in vv.7-9 and vv.21-25.
Unlike vv.3-6, vv.7-9 have a more active dimension, but the repetition of
theme from this verses to vv.21-25 transitions not from passive to active, but
from general instruction to something much more specific. In vv.7-9 the
instruction is to teach the commandments to your children, to speak about
them, to bind them as a sign and to write them on your doorposts and gates.
When this theme of instruction returns in v.21, it is no longer a general
encouragement to teach, but a direction on how this instruction is to be
carried, with specific words provided. These words contain a brief history of
the people’s rescue from slavery in Egypt and then, as noted above, a
repetition of the themes of worshipping God and living according to his
commandments. Through this inclusion of repetition and development in this
484
Woods, Deuteronomy, p. 139.
126
chapter is a movement from passive to active and from general instruction to
specific. This is used to reinforce the particular deuteronomic themes of
hearing the law, committing to keeping the law and ensuring that it is passed
on to the next generation.
Passing on the faith
This chapter places great significance and emphasis on the importance of
passing on the faith to the next generation.
Thus in 6:1 we have Moses reporting that the commandments he is
about to recount are those that Yahweh had commanded him to teach
(lmd) the people, with the clear intention that this teaching should be
passed on as the necessary precondition to their children’s continued
enjoyment of life in the land.
485
Teaching the commandments to the next generation ensures that the
covenant relationship with God is continued.
486
As with the importance of
the child’s question, discussed above, vital to this strand of worship and
mission is the importance of passing on the faith to the next generation.
Through the inclusio outlined above, the text highlights the urgency of
ensuring that passing on the faith to the next generation is understood as
important and then provides instruction as to how this should happen. As
Wright states, the text ‘bends every rhetorical, literary, emotional, and moral
skill to the task of equipping and motivating God’s people to live for the
purposes of God in each generation.’
487
What is also apparent is that the
liturgical strands of the hermeneutic are present within this rhetorical
urgency. As Fishbane describes is this insistence ‘anticipates the future and
the responsibility to guide succeeding generations towards participation in
the legacy of the communal past.’
488
Although not the point that he is
making, his analysis shows the inter-relation between the liturgical collapse of
time and the importance of worship and mission. The focus of
485
D. G. Firth, ‘Passing on the Faith in Deuteronomy’ in ed. D. G. Firth & P. S. Johnston,
Interpreting Deuteronomy: Issues and Approaches, (Nottingham: IVP, 2012), p. 162.
486
McKenzie, ‘The Theological Legacy of Deuteronomy’, p. 38.
487
Wright, Deuteronomy, p. 8.
488
M. Fishbane, Text and Texture: Close Readings of Selected Biblical Texts, (New York:
Schoken Books, 1979) p. 80.
127
Deuteronomy’s teaching is that Israel will learn to fear the Lord. This central
theme has a forward-looking cast, in that fear of the Lord is directly related to
God’s blessing in the future. Learning to fear God leads to making right
choices, leading to God’s blessing.
489
Miller explores the importance of the child’s question in this chapter in a
helpful article, in which he argues that teaching the children is central to the
character of Deuteronomy.
490
He states this is seen through the combination
in the text of both polity and instruction,
491
that the text not only creates a
constitution for the identity of the people of God, but also stressing the need
and means for this to be passed on. But, significantly, this is not simply about
the learning the societal rules and regulations, but this is learning ‘the story
behind the rules, out of which they come and on which they are grounded.’
492
Miller also stresses that this instruction is not simply academic, but is
fundamentally contextual and practical. It arises from participation in and
observation of the regular community practices, which provoke the question
of ‘why?’.
493
Similarly, the focus of Welch’s short article on the purpose of
Deut 6 is on the importance of educating the next generation in the faith of
Israel, arguing that if anything the chapter looks more like an introduction to
‘a system of education, than to a statement of the law.’
494
As Welch also
describes, by being trained according to the instructions in Deut 6, they
discover the nature of the God that they worship and are reminded of their
identity as those rescued from slavery in Egypt.
495
This ensures a strong
connection is made between the story that shapes the community through
passing on the faith to the next generation and their worship of God.
489
P. D. Miller, ‘That the Children May Know: Children in Deuteronomy’, in gen. ed. M. J.
Bunge, The Child in the Bible, (Eerdmans: Grand Rapids, Michigan | Cambridge, 2008, pp. 53-
54.
490
Miller, ‘That the Children May Know’, p. 45.
491
Miller, ‘That the Children May Know’, p. 46.
492
Miller, ‘That the Children May Know’, p. 50.
493
Miller, ‘That the Children May Know’, pp. 51-52.
494
Welch, ‘The Purpose of Deuteronomy’, p. 551.
495
Welch, ‘The Purpose of Deuteronomy’, p. 550.
128
It is also clear that the presence of continuity, adaptation and innovation is
also woven into the description of passing on the faith. For example, Firth, in
his discussion of how Deuteronomy is orientated towards passing on the
faith, uses Speech Act theory, describing Moses’ speech as the ‘illocutionary
act’ with the associated perlocution
496
being different for each subsequent
generation.
497
This makes a clear connection between the inbuilt aim of the
deuteronomic text to ensure that the covenant faith is continually
communicated and the adaptive nature of the text, highlighted through this
liturgical reading. It terms of adaptation, it is also interesting to note that
within the VTE there are instructions about educating the family in the ways
of the treaty.
498
In borrowing from the treaty tradition, Deuteronomy may
well be both continuing and adapting this practice of generational education.
Continuity, adaptation and innovation will be explored more fully in the
following section.
Conclusion to Gittoes’ three strands
Examining Deut 6 through each of the three liturgical strands in turn shows
the presence of the importance of remembering, the liturgical collapse of
time and the connection between worship and mission, and that they are
clearly significant features of the text. Applying a rigorous liturgical
hermeneutic to the text shows that previous scholars’ assumptions about the
liturgical nature of Deut 6 were correct, but provides the means to articulate
why this is so. Not only that, but this reading has drawn attention to aspects
of Deut 6 that have either been previously overlooked, or just unnoticed as in
the case of the inclusio structure detailed in the section on worship and
mission.
496
Illocution being an utterance that is intended by the originator to bring about an effect,
perlocution being the effect an utterance has on the hearer. W. R. Tate, Handbook for Biblical
Interpretation: An Essential Guide to Methods, Terms, and Concepts 2nd edn. (Grand Rapids,
Michigan: Baker Academic, 2012) pp. 207, 316.
497
Firth, ‘Passing on the Faith’, p. 159.
498
R. Frankena, ‘Vassal-treaties of Esarhaddon and the Dating of Deuteronomy’ in OTS vol.
14, 1965, p. 142.
129
This reading has also drawn attention to the presence of adaptation within
the text, firstly through the adaptation of the child’s question in Exodus,
moving the focus away from the Passover ritual and onto the meaning of the
law and commandments. Secondly, through the adaptation of the way in
which the VTE sets out instruction for passing on teaching to the next
generation. This emphasis on passing on the faith is integral to the process of
continuity, adaptation and innovation, and this has an important contribution
to make to the paradigm that is developed from this work and taken back to
the original question.
Continuity, adaptation and innovation in Deuteronomy 6
The previous section provided a clear definition of liturgy through the use of
the liturgical hermeneutic and showed that when using the three strands of
the liturgical hermeneutic it can be shown clearly that this chapter is liturgical.
Having demonstrated that the text is liturgical, this next section will now
explore the ways in which the liturgical characteristics of continuity,
adaptation and innovation are present in the text. These important points
will be drawn into the concluding chapter as part of the paradigm formed in
response to the initial question.
Continuity
There are many ways in which Deut 6 demonstrates clear continuity with the
wider Pentateuch. One way, for example, is the continuity of reference to the
law and commandments. In Exod 19:3, 6 and Lev 27:34, God gives the law
first to Moses so that he can then pass it on to the rest of the people, similarly
in Exod 24:12 Moses is told that what is written is for the people’s instruction.
Exodus does recount that Moses then passes on the teaching to the people,
e.g. Exod 19:7. Interestingly the focus is on the leaders of the people here
whereas in Deuteronomy the focus is instead on the whole gathered
130
community, for example Deut 4 addresses the people as a whole and there is
no mention of leaders, elders or priests being set apart to hear the law first.
Although, as was mentioned, Exodus states that Moses passed on the
teaching, this is mentioned but not in detail, whereas in Deuteronomy this is
the primary focus. It is as if Deuteronomy is the record of the teaching that is
mentioned in Exodus.
Several scholars point to the echoes of the Decalogue that appear in Deut 6 as
it follows on from the Decalogue in Deut 5, in particular the way in which the
chapter expands on the first two commandments.
499
Deut 6:13 emphasises
the importance of God’s name as was set out in Deut 5:11 and Exod 20:7.
Although in Deut 6:13 it is set out as a positive instruction to ‘swear in God’s
name’ rather than the earlier prohibition of not taking God’s name in vain.
Deut 6:14 repeats the phrase to warn of the dangers of turning
away from Yahweh, expanding what is in Deut 5:7 and Exod 20:3 by adding
that they are not to follow the gods of the peoples around them. There is
also a repeat of the description of God as a ‘jealous God’ with a repetition of
the phrase from Deut 5:9
500
and Exod 20:5.
Further points of continuity arise out of repeated words and phrases that
make direct connections with what narratively precedes the point at which
the people are about to cross over to into the land. For example, reference to
the land itself as a promise from God to their ancestors in Deut 6:10 is also
mentioned in Gen 26:3; 50:24; Exod 13:5, 11; 32:13; 33:1; Num 14:23; 32:11.
Alongside the mention of the land is the reference to Abraham, Isaac and
Jacob, Deut 10, which clearly refers back to these narratives in Genesis.
Deut 6:16 makes reference to the incident at Massah, where the people
tested God. This is also returned to again in Deut 9:22; 33:8. This incident is
499
See for example McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 139. For a recent summary of this
discussion see J. H. Walton, ‘The Decalogue Structure of the Deuteronomic Law’, in ed. D. G.
Firth and P. S. Johnston, Interpreting Deuteronomy: Issues and Approaches, (Nottingham:
Apollos, 2012) pp. 93-117.
500
Woods, Deuteronomy, p. 138.
131
recorded in more detail in Exod 17:1-7, and is used here in Deuteronomy as a
warning to the people to do this again. The fact that this is only a passing
reference and not the story in detail strongly suggests that the writer or
editor assumed that the audience would be familiar with the wider details.
Deut 6:8 mentions the use of phylacteries, also mentioned in Exod 13:9, but
this is extended by the introduction of the instruction also to write the
commandments on the door posts of their houses and their gates. This
demonstrates the way in which the liturgical characteristics are inter-related
as a point of continuity also becomes a point of innovation at the same time,
and also how innovation often develops out of something pre-existent.
Adaptation
A significant aspect of adaptation is the way the theme of ‘love’ has been
taken up from the vassal treaty documents. This is explored in detail in the
major section below examining the extent to which it is possible to
‘command’ love.
A further example of adaptation is seen through the similarities and
differences between the child’s question here and also in Exod 13:14.
501
The
question in Deut 6 is about the importance of the law, a major focus within
the book, rather than the specifics of ritual practice, a concept to which
Deuteronomy gives little attention. Fuhrmann, whilst drawing attention to
these differences argues that the law in Deuteronomy functions in the same
way as the Passover does in Exodus, as ‘both are based in Yahweh’s action of
delivering the people from Egypt.’
502
This is not an unreasonable comparison,
but does not alter the fact that the object of the question and the content of
the reply has been changed. As Weinfeld argues, the writer of this passage
has ‘transformed a collocution attached to a ritual ceremony into a liturgical
501
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 144; Nelson, Deuteronomy, pp. 93-94; Woods, Deuteronomy,
p. 139; Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-11, pp. 329-30.
502
Fuhrmann, ‘Deuteronomy 6-8 and the history of interpretation, p. 59.
132
oration irrelevant to the ceremony.’
503
This is clearly a significant adaptation
from the Exodus context.
The similarity between the Exodus and Deuteronomy passages has led some
scholars to argue that the question in Exodus is a deuteronomic insertion, for
example Childs who assigns Exod 12:24-27a and 13:3-16 to D, although
acknowledging that it is not easy to assign sources in 12:1-13:16.
504
Dozeman
points to both the Mosaic presentation of teaching in 12:21-27
505
and a
similarity of style between these verses and parts of Deuteronomy and the
deuteronomistic history
506
as supporting a D source. Similarly, Meyers points
to the similarity of Exod 12:24-26 to Deut 6:20 and the use of ‘deuteronomic
language’ in support of this argument.
507
Meyers does not specify what it is
about the language in Exod 12:24-26 that is especially ‘deuteronomic’, and
neither she nor Dozeman give any space to consider whether there could be a
third, external source from which both Exodus and Deuteronomy are
drawing.
508
Noth argues that both 12:24-27a and 13:1-16 are deuteronomistic insertions,
basing this on the use of the singular in otherwise plural passages.
509
But, as
Propp states, whilst the argument for a D source insertion does appear
persuasive initially, there are still questions that arise. For example, the
location of the D material within E material and a difference in style and
substance from Deuteronomy, for example, ‘the concept of Pesaḥ in 12:21-
23, 25-27 differs sharply from Deut 16:2-8’.
510
Lohfink too argues that Exod
13:3-16 in particular ‘is not strictly Deuteronomic’, but ‘proto-
503
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, pp. 34-35.
504
B. S. Childs, Exodus, (SCM Press: London, 1974) p. 184.
505
T. B. Dozeman, Exodus, Eerdmans Critical Commentary (Eerdmans: Grand Rapids,
Michigan | Cambridge, 2009) p. 272.
506
Dozeman, Exodus, p. 274.
507
C. Meyers, Exodus, The New Cambridge Bible Commentary (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2005) p. 98.
508
W. H. C. Propp, Exodus 1-18, The Anchor Bible (Doubleday: New York, New York, 1999) p.
377.
509
M. Noth, Exodus, trans J. S. Bowden (SCM Press: London, 1962) pp. 97-98; 101.
510
Propp, Exodus 1-18, p. 376.
133
deuteronomistic’.
511
Durham, following Lohfink’s argument here, also adds
that assuming a D insertion is to suggest a late ‘date for material that must
obviously have been extant and in active use much earlier.’
512
Asking whether these verses are a deuteronomic insertion into the Exodus
text is, however, to ask the wrong question. What is more likely is a wider
catechetical tradition from which both of these passages are drawing.
513
Soggin points to the differences in style to support the argument for this
shared tradition.
Dass es sich aber um Varianten einer einzigen Formel handelt, dürfte
klar sein Jos. xxii 24 zeigt, wie sich eine derartige Bildung in ganz
anderem Zusammenhang erhalten, und unter durchaus verschiedenen
Umständen einen neuen Gebrauch finden konnte.
514
By drawing Josh 22:24 into this discussion, Soggin points to the five similar
uses of a ‘child-father’ question and response to defend an argument for
variations on a shared tradition. What this also shows is an openness to
adaptation and innovation within what appears to be a broadly liturgical
setting. Significantly this then relates to the adaptation that is seen in the
examination between the Exodus father-son question and the Deuteronomy
adaptation thereof. This might well indicate that education is a significant
motivating factor in the liturgical adaptation of material throughout this
chapter, and also throughout Deuteronomy as a whole.
Repeated rhetorical devices through the text draw each generation to commit
itself to the law, whilst at the same time ensures that they are remembered
and communicated to the following generation. This question here is an
example of this. Dozeman draws a link between the catechetical pattern of
question and answer as seen here in both passages with the liturgical
511
N. Lohfink Das Hauptgebot: Eine Untersuchung literarischer Einleitungs-fragen zu Dtn 5-11,
(Rome: E Pontifico Instituto Biblico, 1963) p. 121.
512
J. I Durham, Exodus, Word Biblical Commentary, (Thomas Nelson: Nashville, Tennessee,
1987) p. 163.
513
Propp, Exodus 1-18, p. 377. Durham, Exodus, pp. 176-77. J. A. Soggin, ‘Kultatiologische
Sagen und Katechese im Hexateuch’ VT 10 1960, p. 345.
514
Soggin, ‘Kultatiologische Sagen und Katechese im Hexateuch’, p. 324.
134
principles of the Eucharist, describing it too as ‘an anamnesis, an activation of
memory to participate in a past event of salvation.’
515
Captured in this
adaptation of the catechetical question is not only the imperative to
remember, but also the connection between what has happened and what
will happen, demonstrating the inter-relation between continuity, adaptation
and innovation.
Innovation
Although mentioned above as an adaptation from Treaty language, it is also
important to highlight that fact that Deuteronomy is unique in the way it
frames the relationship between God and his people in terms of love. This
theme is more dominant in Deuteronomy than any other Old Testament
book,
516
and further, Deuteronomy is the first book of the Pentateuch to
introduce the concept of loving God.
517
The compulsion on the people to love
God is a theme that runs throughout the book, both in the Deuteronomic Law
Code and in the framing chapters around it.
518
This is an important and
significant theme. As such it will be explored in more detail in the section
below which argues that a liturgical reading of this chapter makes a significant
contribution in the on-going debate as to whether it is possible to command
‘love’ or not.
As was mentioned above in the discussion on ‘Continuity’, the use of
phylacteries is something that is also noted in Exod 13:9, but Deut 6 expands
on the idea of placing symbols on the person and introduces the idea of
placing symbols on doorposts and gates. This will only be possible once the
people have entered and settled in the Promised Land and shows the way in
which a pre-existent instruction is now being used as a basis for a new
515
Dozeman, Exodus, p. 277.
516
Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 310; Von Rad, Deuteronomy, p. 63.
517
Tigay, Deuteronomy, p. 77.
518
5:10; 7:9; 10:12; 11:1, 13, 22; 13:3; 19:9; 30:6, 16, 20.
135
instruction that will only make sense in the new social setting in which the
people will find themselves once settled.
Keeping the law is a vital focus for Deuteronomy. The section on
remembering showed the way in which themes of remembering and
forgetting are used to emphasise the importance of keeping the law. The
urgency of ensuring this is communicated can be seen in a unique
construction in 6:17, .
519
This phrase does not occur anywhere
else in the Old Testament, other than Deut 11:22, which is not surprising
giving that Deut 11 picks up many of the themes, concepts and phrases from
Deut 6, reinforcing them before the beginning of Deuteronomic Law Code in
Deut 12.
Another phrase unique in its construction in comparison with the wider Old
Testament is 6:4, and as noted above, this lack of similarity to other texts is
one reason that translation is more complex.
Conclusion to continuity, adaptation and innovation
This section has explored the presence of the liturgical characteristics
continuity, adaptation and innovation. The points that have been brought out
in this section highlight the focus in Deuteronomy that is placed on keeping
the law and commandments, the importance of passing on the faith to the
next generation, and introducing the aspect of loving God into the covenant
relationship between people and God. The next section will now explore the
important theme of love in more detail.
Can love be commanded? How does a liturgical reading
contribute to this important and ongoing discussion?
519
See also, Woods, Deuteronomy, p. 139.
136
An important discussion arising from scholarship on Deut 6 is the
interpretation of vv.4-6 and the crucial question of whether or not it is
possible to command an emotion such as love. Moran has written a
significant article on this question and draws on the ANE treaty tradition to
support his argument which states that, like the treaty tradition, ‘love’ is to be
understood in a non-emotional way and therefore it is entirely possible for it
to be commanded or required. This argument assumes that Deut 6 is simply
lifting directly from the treaty tradition and using the concept without
adaptation. This section will detail Moran’s argument, showing the strengths
and weaknesses, as well as how other scholars have interacted with this. It
will then explore the background of the treaty tradition, examining the text
for other understandings of the word . This will show that there is
support for arguing that Deuteronomy does in fact adapt the treaty tradition,
using it for its own theological purposes. A liturgical reading of the text then
provides a coherent way of responding to Moran’s argument, acknowledging
the strengths but recognising the weaknesses, and allowing for a more
strongly supported defence of interpreting as a word that does contain
emotional and affective connotations.
Moran
Moran’s article
520
outlining the influence of ANE treaty documents on the
concept of love in Deuteronomy is a significant study, with a large influence
on subsequent scholarship. He aims to challenge the broad consensus, as
was, that argued for Deuteronomy’s dependence on Hosea in its
understanding and use of the word love, proposing as an alternative a
reliance on ANE treaty documents.
Moran states that there are fundamental differences between Hosea and
Deuteronomy, arguing that Hosea never mentions Israel’s love for Yahweh,
whereas in Deuteronomy ‘it epitomizes the book's central preoccupation,
520
W. L. Moran, ‘The Ancient Near Eastern Background of the Love of God in Deuteronomy’ in
Catholic Bible Quarterly 1963, vol. 25, issue 1, pp. 77-87.
137
namely, observance of the Law.’
521
He argues further that in Hosea, God’s
love for Israel is portrayed both through the image of love of a husband for
his wife (Hos 3:1), and love of a father for his son (Hos 11:1). In contrast this
imagery is absent in Deuteronomy, and that while there is a mention of the
father-son relationship in the book there is no connection between this and
love, and further there is no ‘trace’ of any marriage analogy.
522
In this, Moran
is arguing against von Rad who states that the love of Yahweh for Israel is
portrayed in Deuteronomy as the love of a father for his son. The two
examples von Rad provides to support his argument are, however, not
particularly convincing. 14:1 simply describes the people as sons of Yahweh
and 8:5 describes the discipline of Yahweh to his people as analogous to that
of a man with his son.
523
Given that neither of these verses use the word
either, Moran is right to question the strength of von Rad’s assertion here.
Several scholars also, like Moran, argue for an interpretation of that is
less to do with emotion and more to do with obligation. For example,
McBride states that love is neither an emotion to strive for, a ‘lofty spiritual
ideal’ nor a ‘mystical exercise in piety’, and argues instead that it is both a
duty and expectation of Israel towards God.
524
Similarly Lundbom, who
specifically cites Moran, argues in favour of the parallel between
Deuteronomy’s articulation of love between Israel and God, and that of ANE
vassal treaties.
525
Bascom continues Moran’s argument that the Deuteronomic use of the word
refers to loyalty,
526
arguing that loyalty can be commanded but ‘how
521
Moran, ‘The Ancient Near Eastern Background’, p. 77.
522
Moran, ‘The Ancient Near Eastern Background’, pp. 77-8.
523
G. von Rad, Old Testament Theology: Volume One, The Theology of Israel’s Historical
Traditions, trans. D. Stalker, (Edinburgh | London: Oliver and Boyd, 1962) p. 224
524
McBride, ‘The Yoke of the Kingdom’, p. 298.
525
Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 310.
526
R. A. Bascom, ‘Adaptable for Translation: Deuteronomy 6:5 in the Synoptic Gospels and
beyond’ in ed. R. D. Weis & D. M. Carr, A gift of God in due season: Essays on Scripture and
Community in Honour of J. A. Sanders, JSOTSup 225 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press,
1996) p. 169.
138
does one command a feeling?’
527
Bascom uses the three variant Gospel
readings of Deut 6:5 to recover what he argues is the meaning of the original
verse. He proposes a ‘functional equivalence translation’ rather than the
more popular ‘word for word’ approach as he argues that the latter results in
a ‘sentimental or emotional’ reading of the verse whereas the former ‘focuses
on loyalty and obedience’.
528
He also notes that some ‘textual witnesses for
the Septuagint of 6:5 have διανονια (mind) instead of καρδια (heart) for the
first term of the list.'
529
This, he argues, continues to lend support for a ‘non-
emotional’ reading of the text.
Bascom also argues that in 6:5, should be translated as an adverb rather
than a noun. ‘Thus for the last part “and do it as strongly / competently as
you can” may be closer to the force intended.’
530
This could then mean that
the first two words are being used as a way of encapsulating the whole of a
person, with the third being an adverb, e.g. the ‘whole of oneself’ is to do this
‘strongly’. Moberly, however argues against this interpretation. He cites the
repetition of these words from Deut 6:5 in 2 Kgs 23:25, arguing that in this
latter verse is interpreted as a noun as it is referring to Josiah’s ‘strength’
in carrying out the reforms that have taken place.
531
Given that the almost
exact repetition of the words is likely to be a deliberate citation in 2 Kgs to
further Josiah’s reputation in showing him as having lived up to this high
example, it is more than likely that the phrase is taken to mean the same in
both instances. Moberly is right in placing this verse within the context of
Josiah’s completion of the reforms, but this in itself does not definitively
prove that the word could not be an adverb, as Josiah clearly carried out the
527
Bascom, ‘Adaptable for Translation’, p. 169.
528
Bascom, ‘Adaptable for Translation’, p. 167.
529
Bascom, ‘Adaptable for translation’, p. 176.
530
Bascom, ‘Adaptable for translation’, pp. 173-4.
531
footnote R. W. L. Moberly, ‘Toward an Interpretation of the Shema’ in ed. C. Seitz & K.
Greene-McCreight, Theological Exegesis: Essays in Honour of Brevard S. Childs, (Grand Rapids,
Michigan | Cambridge: Eerdmans, 1999) p. 126.
139
reforms ‘competently’ or ‘strongly’. This point will be explored in more detail
below.
Vang, like Moran, assesses the long-held view of movement from Hosea to
Deuteronomy specifically in terms of love, noting that almost two-thirds of
the occurrences of in the Old Testament are in either Hosea or
Deuteronomy.
532
He states that God’s love for his people Israel is one ‘of the
strongest thematic parallels’ between Hosea and Deuteronomy.
533
But unlike
Moran, rather than arguing that there is no connection, he argues instead
that the flow of influence actually goes from Deuteronomy to Hosea. He
states that the lack of a marriage metaphor in Deuteronomy supports this
direction of influence, arguing that Deuteronomy would not have removed all
trace of marriage metaphors if it had been influenced by Hosea.
534
It is
possible that Hosea was influenced by Deuteronomy in terms of the focus on
love, and this would account for both the predominant occurrences of the
word being in either of the two texts and the lack of love imagery in
Deuteronomy. What this does not provide, however, for this particular
discussion is any insight on whether in Deuteronomy should be
understood as an emotional term or not. Further, if Deuteronomy is not
borrowing from Hosea, then this could well lend support to the argument that
Deuteronomy has borrowed the term from the treaty tradition.
Interestingly, having dismissed any borrowing from Hosea or from marriage-
analogies, Moran argues further that Deuteronomy’s depiction of love, in
borrowing from a treaty source, has nothing to do with the book’s originality.
‘It is doubtless better accounted for if no radical transformation need be
supposed’.
535
This is a fundamental flaw in his argument. At the beginning of
the paper, Moran highlights the general consensus of Deuteronomy’s
532
C. Vang, ‘God's Love According to Hosea and Deuteronomy: A Prophetic Reworking of a
Deuteronomic Concept?’ in TynBul 62.2, 2011, p. 174.
533
Vang, ‘God's Love According to Hosea and Deuteronomy’, p. 173.
534
Vang, ‘God's Love According to Hosea and Deuteronomy p. 193.
535
Moran, ‘Ancient Near Eastern Background’, p. 78.
140
distinctiveness and originality,
536
but this then becomes the very thing he
states is not present in Deuteronomy’s depiction of love. The way in which
the treaty pattern has been adapted in Deuteronomy will be examined in
more detail below.
Lapsley
Lapsley writes an important article in this debate which questions Moran’s
conclusions. She acknowledges that both Olson and Brueggemann assert that
love for God in Deuteronomy is also emotional, but argues that ‘these claims
remain largely at the level of intuition and assertion, not argument.’
537
Lapsley, however, sets out to explore Moran’s argument and demonstrate
that it is not as strong as has been previously supposed, but has remained
relatively unchallenged.
538
Whilst not denying the presence of the treaty
form as an influence on the text, Lapsley argues that this does not mean an
identical use of the word from one context to the other.
539
Instead, she
argues that the immediate context of other uses of in Deuteronomy as,
for example, expressing God’s love for Israel have not been fully explored.
540
Lapsley goes on to highlight that implicit within ‘Moran’s argument, and made
explicit by later interpreters drawing on his work, is the conviction that love
does not entail a particular emotional response to the deity.’
541
It is this
aspect of emotion that she then focuses on as her argument against Moran.
Lapsley makes use of Anderson’s 1991 study exploring emotion within
Israelite religion to support her argument.
542
She writes that Anderson’s
primary focus it to show that whilst in contemporary society the presumption
is that action flows out of feelings, this order is reversed in ancient Israelite
culture.
543
It is the behaviours and rituals that the people go through which
536
Moran, ‘Ancient Near Eastern Background’, p. 77.
537
Lapsley, ‘Feeling our way’, p. 351.
538
Lapsley, ‘Feeling our way’, p. 352.
539
Lapsley, ‘Feeling our way’, p. 353.
540
Lapsley, ‘Feeling our way’, p. 353.
541
Lapsley, ‘Feeling our way’, p. 350.
542
G. A. Anderson, ‘A Time to Mourn, A Time to Dance: The Expression of Grief and Joy in
Israelite Religion’ (University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State Uni Press, 1991).
543
Lapsley, ‘Feeling our way’, p. 356.
141
generate the internal feelings.
544
By using Anderson’s article, Lapsley argues
for the need to recognise that emotions are an inherent part of ritual, and in
‘positing emotions as emergent from particular ritualized behaviours, he
assigns an affective role to these experiences that Moran’s legal definition of
love denied them.’
545
Lapsley concludes her article by stating that her aim
was to begin to show that there is sufficient room within Deuteronomy’s use
of the language of love to deserve further study.
546
She adds, that an
approach is needed which ‘does not perpetuate the modern propensity to
privatize feelings and separate them from action.’
547
Lapsley’s study undermines the assumed strength of Moran’s argument. Her
article is the beginning of a wider on-going scholarly discussion on this specific
subject. She states that this is an important topic for further study
548
and that
‘the embeddedness of the language of love within the larger story of the
relationship between Israel and God also shaped the meaning of love.’
549
This
‘larger story’ is clearly emphasised through the liturgical reading of Deut 6, as
seen through the liturgical collapse of time, which draws together the story of
the past rescue with the future gift of the land, as well as the importance of
worship and mission, with the people of God living out their identity which is
based in this relationship that Lapsley indicates. It is by means of picking up
on points such as ‘the larger story of the relationship between Israel and God’
that a liturgical reading of the text can contribute significantly to this on-going
discussion, and hold together a view of love that is more complex and
multifaceted than Moran has presented.
Moran bases his interpretation of love on the understanding and influence of
ANE treaty forms, and this is not something that Lapsley challenges. If,
however, this form has been adapted and there is actually a different form
544
Lapsley, ‘Feeling our way’, p. 357.
545
Lapsley, ‘Feeling our way’, p. 357.
546
Lapsley, ‘Feeling our way’, p. 363.
547
Lapsley, ‘Feeling our way’, p. 365.
548
Lapsley, ‘Feeling our way’, p. 355.
549
Lapsley, ‘Feeling our way’, pp. 355-6.
142
that is underlying the use of the treaty type, then this is important, as wrong
assumptions about form may have a direct impact on interpretation. It will
be helpful to examine the relationship between Deuteronomy and ANE treaty
documents in more detail, to show whether Moran’s assessment of the close
relationship between them is valid.
Treaty documents
Moran draws parallels to Deut 6 with 2nd millennium BC examples of treaty
documents from Egypt, showing the Pharaoh being expected to love his
vassal and the vassal who must love the Pharaoh,
550
and also 1st millennium
BC examples from the Vassal Treaty of Esarhaddon.
551
Having previously
established his criteria, Moran then concludes from these parallels that he
has found an example of love that is like the example in Deuteronomy. ‘This
profane love is also one that can be commanded, and it is a love too that may
be defined in terms of loyalty, service and obedience. It is, like the love of
God in Deuteronomy, a covenantal love.’
552
Comparison with ANE treaty documents is aided by the fact that nearly ‘sixty
treaties from the ancient Near East are extant. More than half are Hittite
treaties from the mid-second millennium, and there are a handful from Syria
and another handful of Neo-Assyrian exemplars.’
553
Given that most of these
are vassal treaties,
554
this provides a good range of material for comparison
between these texts and Deuteronomy, and specifically the idea of Yahweh
can be seen as the ‘suzerain’ with Israel as the vassal. This similarity has been
used to argue that a similarity in form must mean a similarity in use of
language, in other words because ‘love’ in a vassal treaty would mean
‘obedience’ it must also mean this in Deuteronomy.
550
Moran, ‘Ancient Near Eastern Background’, p. 78.
551
Moran, ‘Ancient Near Eastern Background’, p. 80.
552
Moran, ‘Ancient Near Eastern Background’, pp. 81-2.
553
J. H. Walton, Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament: Introducing the
Conceptual World of the Hebrew Bible, (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Academic, 2006), p.
69.
554
Walton, Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament:', p. 69.
143
It would be foolish to attempt to argue that there is no similarity between
Deuteronomy and the ANE documents, as several scholars have
demonstrated clear parallels.
555
But what some scholars, and Moran in
particular, have overlooked is the question of whether Deuteronomy simply
copies what is found in the treaty documents or actually demonstrates
adaptation. The assumption is often that there is a direct borrowing of style,
structure and language, and therefore what is observed in one setting is
directly transferable to the other. But a detailed examination of the evidence
shows that this argument is not sustainable. So, for example, Braulik, in
describing Deuteronomy as a treaty document, details the way in which,
according ‘to the structure of ancient Near Eastern treaty formulas, the
covenant contains a sequence of curses - the sanctions against the faithless
partner in a covenant. They are found (expanded and variegated) in 28:15-
68.’
556
The point being, that Braulik shows that Deuteronomy’s version of the
curse section is different from that of the ANE documents. Frankena also
notes that there are similarities and differences between the curse sections in
Deut 28:20-57 and the curse sections of vassal treaties.
557
From this
comparison of the curse sections, Frankena notes that the ‘compiler,
however, did more than merely copy the Assyrian parallels by using these as a
starting-point for his own expositions’.
558
Again, he states that vv. 38-57 have
a similarity to ‘a curse of Adad’, ‘but the Hebrew text has again long
555
For example, de Vaux who argues for clear similarities between Deuteronomy and Hittite
documents (R. de Vaux, Ancient Israel Its Life and Institutions, trans. J. McHugh (London:
Darton, Longman & Todd, 1961) pp. 147-8.) and Kitchen, who, like de Vaux also argues for a
closer affinity to late second-millennium covenants than with first-millennium covenants (K.
A. Kitchen, Ancient Orient and Old Testament, (London: The Tyndale Press, 1966) p. 99.) In a
later work, he expands on this by demonstrating the relationship between not only treaty
documents but law codes as well, ‘the overall framework format and main range of contents
is drawn from the treaty format of the fourteenth / thirteenth centuries; second, the law
content of the stipulations derives from law, not treaty, and the Sinai covenant’s use of short
blessings plus longer curses (not the roughly equal curses and blessings of the Hittites) goes
back to the older law collections’ usage; third, use of interim epilogues before the final
sanctions likewise goes back to the older law collections, not treaty.’ K. A. Kitchen, On the
Reliability of the Old Testament, (Grand Rapids, Michigan | Cambridge: Eerdmans, 2003) p.
289.
556
Braulik, The Theology of Deuteronomy, p. 34.
557
Frankena, ‘Vassal-treaties of Esarhaddon’, pp. 146-7.
558
Frankena, ‘Vassal-treaties of Esarhaddon’, p. 149.
144
elaborations.’
559
What this small sample immediately demonstrates is that
Deuteronomy does not copy a pre-existent form in toto but shows clear
freedom in extending and adapting for its own purposes.
Rüterswörden argues that on closer inspection of the text, the commandment
of love in ANE treaty documents is under the specific rules and not in the
initial position that it is found in Deuteronomy.
560
Greenberg, similarly, also
argues that Deuteronomy is adapting the treaty form and that this changes
the use of the word ‘love’ within the text.
Acceptance of the covenant is no mere declaration of infatuation or
allegiance. It embodies a most serious commitment, that of
wholehearted observance of the law. Two things are unusual about
this connection of law and covenant: One is that the law was
subsumed under the covenant altogether. This is in sharp contrast to
other ancient covenants of suzerainty treaties that were almost
exclusively declarations of fealty or testaments of political allegiance.
The second is the continuous coupling of love and law.
561
Thus observance of the law is still important in Deuteronomy, but this is very
much about a covenant agreement which is ultimately a theological rather
than an entirely political construct. Walton draws attention to this fact that
Deuteronomy is a religious document rather than a political document and
states that the similarities between it and the treaty documents then are not
‘carried into the details.’
562
In other words, there is notable adaptation of the
form to suit the particular social and theological agenda.
The presence of adaptation is not only noticeable when comparing
Deuteronomy to other ANE treaty documents, but when viewing the tradition
as a whole. There is variety from one group of treaty texts to another, for
559
Frankena, ‘Vassal-treaties of Esarhaddon’, pp. 149-50.
560
U. Rüterswörden, ‘Die Liebe zu Gott im Deuteronomium’ in ed. M. Witte, K. Schmid, D.
Prechel & J. C. Gertz, Die deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerke: Redaktions und
religionsgeschichtliche Perspektiven zur „Deuteronomismus" - Diskussion in Tora und
Vorderen Propheten, (de Gruyter: Berlin | New York, 2006), p. 238.
561
B. Greenberg, ‘Deuteronomy 1-34: Hear, O Israel: Law and Love’ in ed. F. C. Holmgren and
H. E. Schaalman, Preaching Biblical Texts: Expositions by Jewish and Christian Scholars,
(Eerdmans: Grand Rapids, Michigan, 1995) pp. 151-2.
562
J. H. Walton, Ancient Israelite Literature in its Cultural Context: A Survey of Parallels
Between Biblical and Ancient Near Eastern Texts, (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan, 1990)
p. 230.
145
example a comparison of Hittite treaties with Assyrian treaties shows an
omission of the historical introduction and blessings section.
563
This indicates
that there was not one set pattern by which all treaty documents were
governed, and shows that adaptation to context was not unusual. What
Deuteronomy does is borrow from a general tradition rather than one specific
example.
564
As Fuhrmann states, the ‘adaptation of the treaty form is a way
of speaking into the ancient Near Eastern environment.’
565
The text borrows
from a general ‘type’ of document, that was available in and relevant to its
context, but then adapt it for its own theological purposes.
Moran highlights similarities between the VTE and Deut 29. He argues that
there are ‘only insignificant differences’ between the two passages, but goes
on himself to describe these differences as ‘the question is asked and
answered by future generations, not by those suffering from the curses; the
biblical answer, though basically identical with the Assyrian, is considerably
expanded and of course is a statement of deuteronomic theology.’
566
It is
difficult to equate a ‘considerable expansion’ which now states deuteronomic
theology as simply ‘insignificant differences’. They are a clear example of
Deuteronomy adapting what is found in the covenant document, making
significant changes in terms of expanding the curse section, and ensuring that
it represents deuteronomic theology.
Moran is right in his conclusion that he has demonstrably questioned the
previously assumed connection between the concept of love in Hosea and in
Deuteronomy. He is also right to detail the similarities between the use of
the term in covenant documents and in Deuteronomy. Where he is mistaken,
however, is to deny that any adaptation has taken place in transferring the
term from one context to the other. It is not that Moran is wrong in his basic
assumption, which is why his paper has been so significant and gained much
563
Frankena, ‘Vassal-treaties of Esarhaddon and the Dating of Deuteronomy’, p. 135.
564
Walton, Ancient Israelite Literature in its Cultural Context' p. 107.
565
Fuhrmann, ‘Deuteronomy 6-8 and the history of interpretation’, p. 46.
566
Moran, ‘Ancient Near Eastern Background’, pp. 83-84.
146
support since publication. It is that he has not allowed deuteronomic
adaptation to be permitted in his understanding of the word in its new
context and has thereby limited the interpretation of to simply meaning
loyalty to an over-lord.
The importance of grace
It is clear that there is support for Moran’s position and that his argument has
remained relatively unchallenged,
567
but this has not meant all scholars have
accepted it without question. One particular area of questioning has been
the role of grace within Deuteronomy and how an interpretation of love may
fit within this. Jenson for example, though not responding specifically to
Moran, argues that the interpretation of the Shema needs to be placed within
the deuteronomic framework of grace. It is God’s act of grace, he argues, that
is emphasised in the verses leading up to the Decalogue and that is returned
to in some of the verses that seek to motivate Israel’s behaviour and it is this
that shows the ‘primacy of gift over command excludes any kind of legalism
or mere external obedience.’
568
Here Jenson highlights the significance that
Deuteronomy places on attitude as well as action, a point that both Welch
and Barker have made before him.
569
This deuteronomic emphasis on
attitude is demonstrated through the only two references to circumcision in
the entire text (Deut 10:16; 30:6). For this particular discussion, Deut 30:6 is
especially interesting given the near repetition of Deut 6:5. As Barker
describes, the ‘significant development from chapter 6 to 30:11-14 is that
whereas in the earlier chapter the people are commanded to put the
commandments on their heart, in chapter 30 Yahweh does it for them.’
570
The direct connection in this verse between the concern for internal attitude
567
Lapsley, ‘Feeling our way: Love for God in Deuteronomy’, p. 352.
568
Jenson, ‘Snakes and Ladders’, p. 198.
569
Welch, ‘The Purpose of Deuteronomy, Chapter vi.’ p. 550. P. A. Barker, The Triumph of
Grace in Deuteronomy: Faithless Israel, Faithful Yahweh in Deuteronomy, (Bletchley:
Paternoster, 2004) p. 103.
570
Barker, The Triumph of Grace in Deuteronomy, pp. 189-90.
147
and the command to love God further undermines the argument that 6:5 is
simply concerned with demonstrating loyalty and acting out of duty.
Herrmann argues that v.4 and v.5 have to belong together and should not be
treated separately.
571
The main focus of his argument is the need for v.4 to
be understood within the wider deuteronomic theology and that this clearly
points to an affective understanding of the commandment to love God.
Vielmehr ist er her emotionalen Gottesbeziehung entsprossen, welche
konzentriert die religio in Form der Gott zugewandten Liebe zum
Ausdruck bringt, einer Liebe, die keine anderen Sicherungen sucht, nur
von Jahwe alle Lebensmöglichkeiten erwarte und ihm dankbar
zugekehrt bleibt.
572
In his criteria of loyalty, service, and obedience, that he has adopted for his
paper, Moran has overlooked an important aspect of love within
Deuteronomy, that of love for the poor, vulnerable and marginalised in
society. The love that both God declares and expects Israel to show to the
weaker in their society cannot simply come under this three-fold description
of loyalty, service, and obedience. As Herrmann argues, the loving devotion of
God towards Israel should draw from them the same exclusive loving
response.
Der in sich geschlossenen Ganzheit auf göttlicher Seite solle totale
Hinwendung auf der menschlichen gleichen. Israel hat alles Gute
allein von Jahwe empfangen, der sich ihm in Liebe zuneigte. Von
daher kann es nicht anders sein, als daß sich die menschliche Seite ihm
ebenso ausschließlich zuwendet. Es ist das hier ein
außergewöhnlicher Gedanke, die keiner anderen himmlischen Größe
zustehende Verehrung damit zu begründen, daß das göttliche
Gegenumsetzende Liebe mithin das ganze Herz und alle
Lebensregungen erfüllen sollte.
573
Placing this argument within the deuteronomic concept of grace more than
suggests that the idea of Deuteronomy perceiving as simply obedience,
571
W. Herrmann ‘Jahwe und des Menschen Liebe zu Ihm zu Dtn. VI 4’ in VT 50, 1, 2000, p. 53.
572
Herrmann ‘Jahwe und des Menschen Liebe zu Ihm zu Dtn. VI 4’, p. 54.
573
Herrmann ‘Jahwe und des Menschen Liebe zu Ihm zu Dtn. VI 4’, p. 51.
148
in the same way as a vassal to an overlord, is not taking sufficient account of
the deuteronomic context.
Can emotions be commanded?
One of the fundamental points raised in this discussion against reading ‘love’
as having emotional aspects is the arguments that it is not possible to
command an emotion, but only to command a behaviour or action.
574
In
response to this line of argument, Moberly points to the way in which Hebrew
verbs do seem to have the capacity to combine both emotion and action.
Hebrew verbs depicting mental and emotional states typically
envisage actions commensurate with the state - thus to “remember”
(zākar) includes acting upon a particular awareness, to “hear”
(shāmaʿ) includes acting upon what one heard through obeying, and
to “love” (ʾāhēv) includes actions that express one’s orientation
towards another.
575
Tigay, similarly, cites Lev 19:17-18 to defend his point that the Torah does at
times command particular feelings, arguing that this ‘is in keeping with the
fact that Hebrew verbs for feelings sometimes refer as well to the actions that
result from them.’
576
He goes on to point out that Deuteronomy introduces
the concept of loving God, unlike the rest of the Pentateuch which focuses on
‘reverence’.
577
This change of language in Deuteronomy could well suggest,
however, that these verses are doing something particular and distinct from
the preceding four books. This change from ‘reverence’ to ‘love’ is a clear
choice to move to a more affective term, which undermines the strength of
the argument that this has nothing at all to do with emotion, as a choice has
been made to move away from a less emotionally filled word.
574
G. Wallis, ‘’ in ed. G. Johannes Botterweck and H. Ringgren trans. J. T. Willis,
Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament Vol. I, (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1977)
p. 115.
575
Moberly, Old Testament Theology, p. 22.
576
Tigay, Deuteronomy, pp. 76-77
577
Tigay, Deuteronomy, p. 77
149
Rüterswörden
578
cites Braulik in order to demonstrate that a reliance on ANE
tradition as a way of understanding love within Deut 6 is over-valued.
579
He
goes on to look at five examples of love being used as an imperative (Am
5:15; Zech 8:19; Ps 31:24; Prov 4:6; Hos 3:1.)
580
arguing that there is clearly an
emotional aspect to commandments of an abstract nature.
Manches lässt sich unter die von Zobel genannte, wenn dann auch
erweiterte, Kategorie subsumieren, so das Gute, die Wahrheit, den
Frieden, die Weisheit, alles Abstrakta, aber die Anordnung, den
Nächsten oder Fremdling oder gar eine Frau zu lieben, weist auf eine
emotionale Komponente; ist hierbei mit personalem Objekt
konstruiert, und in diese Kategorie würde man die Liebe zu Gott
einordnen.
581
Christensen, in responding to Moran, states that McKay has shown that the
language of loving God does not come straight from an ANE vassal-treaty
document.
582
But rather ‘that God’s actions in the historical events that make
up the exodus-conquest provide the motivation for a covenant relationship
between God and his people.’
583
Hirschberg, suggests a shared root relating
love to something particularly physical.
The use of the root in Ugarit proves that it originally denoted “to love”
in a sexual sense 5). Thus it may be related to arab. 'ihāb which means
both “(human) skin” and “(raw) leather”. In the latter sense it appears
in Hos. xi 4 and certainly in Ct. iii 10; Solomon’s litter is not inlaid with
“love”, but with leather, as a matter of course, which makes the
emendation unnecessary.
584
This is similar to the earlier argument made by Driver,
585
and it is from this
that Wallis goes on to state that if ‘this supposition is correct, then the
emotional experience is the germ cell for the development of the concept of
578
Rüterswörden, ‘Die Liebe zu Gott im Deuteronomium’.
579
Rüterswörden, ‘Die Liebe zu Gott im Deuteronomium’, p. 231; see also N. MacDonald
‘Deuteronomy and the Meaning of Monotheism’ FAT (Forschungen zum Alten) 11/1, 2003,
who also argues that the parallel between a treaty and Deuteronomy is not a perfect match.
580
Rüterswörden, ‘Die Liebe zu Gott im Deuteronomium’, p. 231.
581
Rüterswörden, ‘Die Liebe zu Gott im Deuteronomium’, p. 232.
582
Christensen, Deuteronomy 1:1-21:9, p. 143.
583
Christensen, Deuteronomy 1:1-21:9, p. 143.
584
H. H. Hirschberg, ‘Some additional Arabic Etymologies in Old Testament Lexicography’ in
VT 11.4 (1961) p. 373.
585
G. R. Driver, ‘Supposed Arabisms in the Old Testament’ in JBL, 55.2 (1936) p. 111.
150
'ahabh.’
586
If an emotional aspect was at the heart of the root then this
would naturally be a challenge to the strength of Moran’s argument.
This is clearly related to the third of Gittoes’ liturgical strands, that of the link
between worship and mission. It is the repetition of the story of rescue by
God of the Israelites that becomes the motivating factor for the way in which
they should then be responding. This is to continue Jenson’s argument of
grace within the text, and begins to show that a liturgical reading can draw
attention to certain aspects within the text that may have been overlooked
and in this instance lend weight to Christensen’s argument against Moran. It
may well be that liturgy and worship become precisely the place where
response, expectation of behaviour or attitudes, and emotional response are
drawn together, and may well show that a separation between love and
loyalty is creating a false dichotomy.
How is to be interpreted?
One of Moran’s arguments that Deuteronomy is borrowing from treaty
documents and not from Hosea, is the lack of direct marriage-analogies in
Deuteronomy as a metaphor for love between Israel and Yahweh. This has
led some scholars to attempt to find a different origin for the word one
that is neither borrowing from Hosea or treaty documents. For example,
McKay argues that in using the term the writer of Deuteronomy is reliant
on wisdom tradition, more than the treaty tradition,
587
supporting this by
examining examples of the father / son and teacher / pupil relationship in
Proverbs and comparing this to Deuteronomy.
588
He concludes by arguing
that this use of wisdom adapts the covenant idea of love in this new
context,
589
but he also adds that the proper response of Israel as ‘son’ or
‘pupil’ is ‘that of filial obedience, reverential love, or pietas.’
590
McKay’s
586
Wallis, ‘’, p. 102.
587
J. W. McKay, ‘Man’s love for God in Deuteronomy and the Father / Teacher - Son / Pupil
relationship’ in VT 22, 1972, p. 427.
588
McKay, ‘Man's love for God’, pp. 429, 431-2.
589
McKay, ‘Man's love for God’, p. 435.
590
McKay, ‘Man's love for God’, p. 435.
151
argument shows an awareness of the adaptive nature of Deuteronomy for
interpreting and posits a possible alternative origin sphere of influence
other than just the treaty tradition. This is helpful to an extent, but despite
this his conclusion still leans towards a response that emphasises obedience
and reverence, which, in the end, is not far removed from Moran's
conclusions.
Malamat examines the four occurrences of the word that are not
followed by an object marker but ‘by an indirect object, introduced by the
particle l (), usually translated “to.”’
591
He argues that the specific use of
ahab in these four examples has a meaning of ‘“to be of use to,” “to be
beneficial to,” “to assist or help.”’
592
This he argues shows a more concrete
than abstract meaning of the word. He then looks at 2 Chr 26:10 (for he loved
the soil), which does not have a () but his idea of love as being beneficial to
the object does not seem unreasonable in this instance. This does suggest
another way of interpreting this word, but because of the focus of his article,
he does not then go on to show whether this meaning of can be found in
places that are marked by the object marker, as at 6:5. Also, given that the
four examples he examines are not in Deuteronomy (Lev 19:18, 34; 1 Kgs 5:1
[Eng]; 2 Chr 19:2), it is difficult to know whether this meaning could be
present in 6:5, or is simply a specific use found only in these four verses.
Ackerman, through examining the use of the word in the Old Testament,
concluded that although it is used in the context of parent/child or
husband/wife relationships, the one described using the terms ʾāhēb
orʾahăbâ is always the ‘hierarchically superior party in the relationship’.
593
She also maintains a distinction between political love, as seen in
591
A. Malamat, ‘”Love your Neighbor as Yourself” What it Really Means’ in Biblical
Archaeology Review vol. 16, no. 4, 1990, p. 50.
592
Malamat, ‘“Love your Neighbor as Yourself”’, p. 51.
593
S. Ackerman, ‘The Personal is Political: Covenantal and Affective Love (ʾĀHĒB, ʾAHĂBÂ) in
the Hebrew Bible’ in VT LII, 4, 2002, p. 447.
152
Deuteronomy, and emotional love, as seen for example in Hosea, Ezekiel or
Jeremiah.
594
Arnold sees Ackerman’s work as valuable, but disagrees with her idea of
different types of love.
One of the fundamental principles of lexical analysis is that theological
language often exhibits special semantic developments. Words are
often assigned particular and technical meanings in the Bible, and the
danger is that we will disassociate the particularized meaning from the
semantic field generally, yielding a lexical distinction foreign to the
Bible itself.
595
He argues that the use of love as meaning loyalty is a nuance or a way of
understanding love, but it is not a different type of love.
596
He goes on to
state that he disagrees with the consensus that has followed Moran’s
argument, ‘Love for YHWH in these contexts is certainly more than affection,
but not less than affection.’
597
In this he is arguing that a political use of the
word in one context does not negate an affective meaning, an argument that
Brueggemann also makes.
598
Arnold examines the word in this verse through a comparison with its
wider use in Deuteronomy. Arnold argues that the words ‘love’ and ‘fear’
have been deliberately chosen in Deuteronomy to demarcate the boundaries
of the relationship between Israel and God, and that the two words have both
emotional and behavioural aspects.
599
He goes on to state that until
Deuteronomy, these words were not brought into such a close relationship,
and that by doing so, Deuteronomy is creating something new for a ‘new
covenant ethic.’
600
It is this new antinomy between the two terms that,
Arnold argues, creates a balance ‘so that love prevents terror and fear
594
Ackerman, ‘The Personal is Political’, p. 457.
595
B. T. Arnold, ‘The Love-Fear Antinomy in Deuteronomy 5-11’ VT 61, 4, 2011, pp. 555-6.
596
Arnold, ‘The Love-Fear Antinomy’, p. 556.
597
Arnold, ‘The Love-Fear Antinomy’, p. 560.
598
W. Brueggemann, Theology of the Old Testament: Testimony, Dispute, Advocacy,
'Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1997) p. 420.
599
Arnold, ‘The Love-Fear Antinomy’, pp. 564-6.
600
Arnold, ‘The Love-Fear Antinomy’, p. 567.
153
prevents irreverent familiarity.’
601
His work shows that when examining the
use of the word within Deuteronomy itself, before drawing on external
influences, the word does have an emotional aspect. Not only this, but he
argues for innovation through the creation of a new linguistic relationship
between the two words ‘love’ and ‘fear’ in order to bring this about.
Whilst Moran is right to highlight the absence of any direct ‘marriage-analogy’
in Deuteronomy as a metaphor for love between Israel and Yahweh, to state
that there is no trace at all is to overlook three particular, but subtle aspects
of the wider text. The first, is the use of in Deuteronomy 7:7; 10:15;
21:11, a rare word used only 11 times in the Old Testament. Vang makes two
points about the unusual use of this word; first that this word clearly conveys
deep emotion and longing, and second that it is only in Deuteronomy that it is
used with God as the subject, whereas every other occurrence has a person
as the subject.
602
This clearly affective word used to convey God’s choice of
Israel above any other nation (7:7; 10:15) makes it difficult to maintain the
argument that God is being portrayed in exactly the same way as a suzerain in
a treaty document.
The second is simply to note that three occurrences of the word in 21:15-
16 are instructions concerning a man who loves one of his wives and hates
the other. This is not to say that this is an analogy for love between Israel and
Yahweh, but highlights that the word is used in Deuteronomy in a specifically
marital context, showing used in an affective context. This could mean
that the writer is using the same word in a different context, using a different
connotation, or it could imply that the removal of emotion from the word
when used in the context of Israel loving God is to claim too much when
compared with this use of the word in its wider deuteronomic context.
601
Arnold, ‘The Love-Fear Antinomy’, p. 567.
602
Vang, ‘God's Love According to Hosea and Deuteronomy’, p. 188.
154
The third point is the use of the word which ‘is relatively rare in OT-
biblical usage’.
603
Olson uses the occurrence of this word to argue for an
emotional and passionate depiction of love in Deuteronomy, stating that
‘Israel’s “love” of God in Deuteronomy involves both “obeying” and “holding
fast” (11:22; 30:20).’
604
This idea of ‘holding fast’ is often used in passages to
show romantic or sexual attraction and enables Olson to state that obedience
‘and passionate relationship characterize the full love of God in
Deuteronomy.’
605
Whilst Olson is right that this word can indicate romantic or sexual love, he
overstates his case when his evidence is examined in detail, as the use of
in a romantic context is by far the minority of occasions. In fact only 3 out of
54 uses of are in connection with romantic love, which are the three
references he includes to support his argument that this word ‘often denotes
passion, romantic love, and sexual attraction.’
606
Even of these three verses,
two are more complex than simple positive romantic love (Gen 34:3 and 1 Kgs
11:2.
607
Rather than in a romantic context, the more common usage of this
word is associated with either cleaving to the Lord or to his decrees. Further
603
G. Wallis, ‘’ in ed. G. Johannes Botterweck and H. Ringgren trans. J. T. Willis, G. W.
Bromiley and D. E. Green, Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament Vol. III, (Grand Rapids,
Michigan: Eerdmans, 1978) p. 80.
604
Olson, Deuteronomy and the Death of Moses, p. 51.
605
Olson, Deuteronomy and the Death of Moses, p. 51.
606
Olson, Deuteronomy and the Death of Moses, p. 51.
607
Further uses of the are as follows. Cleave to the Lord, 9 times (Deut 10:20; 11:22;
13:5; 30:20; Josh 22:5; 23:8; 2 Kgs 18:6; Jer 13:11 used twice in one verse; Ps 63:9), cleave to
the Lord's decrees, once (Ps 119:31). A positive clinging to a person or people 5 times (2 Sam
20:2; Rut 1:14; 2:8, 21, 23). A negative association with a disaster, threat or battle, 9 times
(Ge 19:19; Deut 28:21, 60; Jud 20:42; 1 Sam 31:2; 2 Sam 1:6; 2 Kgs 5:27; Jer 42:16; 1 Chr
10:2), also being pursued 4 times (Gen 31:23; Jud 18:22; 20:45; 1 Sam 14:22). A negative
clinging depicted through physicality, e.g. tongue to roof of mouth 10 times (Eze 3:26; Ps
22:16; 44:26; 102:6; 119:25; 137:6; Job 19:20; 29:10; 31:7; Lam 4:4). Clinging used in natural
imagery, 5 times (Eze 29:4, twice; Job 38:38; 41:9, 15). Retaining inheritance, twice (Num
36:7,9). Clinging to sin, once (2 Kgs 3:3). Sin not clinging, once (Ps 101:3). Clinging to the
nations who were in land before Israel, once (Josh 23:12). Clinging to a sword in battle, once
(2 Sam 23:10). Not clinging to articles devoted to the ban, once (Deut 13:18).
155
to this, the word is used in a negative sense slightly more than in a positive
sense.
608
There are seven occurrences of this within Deuteronomy. Four of these
encouraging the Israelites to cleave to the Lord, with the other three being
negative. These four occasions follow a similar pattern of placing within
a sequence ‘e.g. “to serve”, “to fear”, “to swear by his name”, and also verbs
to do with following the law, “keep” his commandments, “walk” in his ways,
“obey” his voice.’
609
This sequential pattern is mirrored once in Joshua (Josh
22:5), but unlike the other four times the word is used in association with the
Lord (Josh 23:8; 2 Kgs 18:6; Jer 13:11; Ps 63:9).
This could suggest that Olson’s claim that this could contribute to an affective
interpretation of love in Deuteronomy is unfounded, but closer examination
reveals that this is not actually true. is a predominantly deuteronomic
and deuteronomistic word, occurring seven times in Deuteronomy and 19 in
the Deuteronomistic history.
610
Unlike the rest of Pentateuch which does not
use frequently (only 6 times: Gen 2:24; 19:19; 31:23; 34:3; Num 36:7, 9).
It is a term that is ‘commonly used metaphorically to express a state of
loyalty, affection, or close proximity’
611
and can convey strong emotions, both
positively and negatively, and affection or threat. Brooke furthers this point
by stating that Ps 63 could be seen as a ‘meditation on the full spiritual
significance of the term’.
612
If Ps 63 really is a meditation on this term, then
this would support a general perception of this word as carrying with it
emotional meaning, given that Ps 63 could not be considered to be a non-
emotional psalm.
608
There are 26 negative settings of this word and 22 positive, excluding 6 uses which are
neither strongly one nor the other.
609
Wallis, ‘’, pp. 81-82.
610
G. J. Brooke, ‘’ in ed. W. A. VanGemeren NIDOTTE Vol. 1 (Paternoster: Carlisle, 1996) p.
910.
611
Brooke, ‘’, p. 911.
612
Brooke, ‘’, p. 911.
156
It is also interesting when considered alongside . The two words are
closely linked in Deuteronomy, where the four ‘cleave to the Lord’
occurrences are always either in the same, or neighbouring verse to one
containing the word . In the wider OT context, the two words occur
closely together (same verse or adjacent verse) 8 times (Gen 34:3; Deut
10:20; 11:22; 13:5; 30:20; Josh 22:5; 1 Kgs 11:2; Job 19:20). Gen 34:3 and 1
Kgs 11:2 are clearly about romantic love, whilst Josh 22:5, although not an
exact repetition, is very similar to Deut 10:20; 11:22; 13:5 and 30:20. There is,
though, a marked difference in Job 19:19-20. In these verses there is almost
an ironic reversal of the positive and affectionate connection between the
two words. In other words, where the expectation has been established that
and occurring in close proximity to one another should usually
indicate a positive emotional affection, in Job it becomes the complete
opposite. This ironic reversal could then lend support to the argument that
where the two words are found in close relation to one another there is an
indication of something both positive and emotional. Ultimately it may well
mean that Olson was right in his conclusion that this word is used to indicate
affective love, but not accurate in his examination of the detailed evidence.
Moberly explores the idea of love through the use of the word , seeing it
in context with the demands of the response of love in v.5. He argues that to
‘say that YHWH is “one” is not to say something about God that is separable
from its human counterpart of “love”, but rather designates Yhwh as the
appropriate recipient of unreserved human “love”.’
613
He quotes Song of
Songs 6:8-9 to support his argument, showing that there is used to
describe the unique one, the one who enjoys special favour. He states that
this description would not stand up to scientific investigation of ‘the woman’,
but comes from a context of love and relationship.
614
This clearly is
appropriate within the context of Song of Songs, given that the lover is
613
Moberly, ‘Toward and Interpretation of the Shema’, p. 132.
614
Moberly, ‘Toward and Interpretation of the Shema’, p. 133; Moberly, Old Testament
Theology, p. 20.
157
declaring their love for the unique beloved. But this does not mean that in
the different context of Deuteronomy, this same use of ‘unique’ would
automatically denote an affective intention. For example, for those people
bound up by the VTE, there would have only been one, ‘unique’ suzerain for
them, but in this context the desire is strictly for obedience. Ultimately,
arguing from what is coherent in another context simply raises the possibility
for this interpretation in Deuteronomy, but cannot definitively be used to
show that this understanding is the one intended in Deuteronomy. So, it is
helpful for showing that this could be the way that Deuteronomy is using this
particular word, and adds to the questioning of Moran’s assumptions that it is
a direct lift from a treaty context, but cannot provide absolute proof.
Interestingly, Lohfink and Bergman cite Moran in their article as they describe
the association of the love motif in ANE treaties.
615
Despite this, they then
argue that there is an affective association, stating that because of its ‘direct
connection with the love motif here, ʾechādh probably suggested emotional
connotations, which this word can have in love lyrics when one refers to his
sweetheart as the “only one”: Cant. 6:8f.’
616
But at no point do they explicitly
comment on the contradiction between Moran’s perspective and their
argument that the word has affective connotations.
Conclusion to a liturgical response to whether love can be commanded
Moran’s article is significant and important. He is right to challenge the
assumption of a connection between Hosea and Deuteronomy and to
highlight the differences in the way that both texts present the concept of
love. He is also right to assert a strong connection between Deuteronomy
and the ANE treaty tradition. What he has overlooked, however, is the actual
way in which the text relates to the treaty tradition, as well as some of the
closer detail of the text. A close examination of the text reveals continuity,
615
N. Lohfink & J. Bergman ʾechādh in ed. G. J. Botterweck, H. Ringgren, TDOT vol. 1
trans. J. T. Willis revd. edn. (Eerdmans: Grand Rapids, Michigan, 1974) p. 196.
616
Lohfink & Bergman, ʾechādh, p. 196.
158
adaptation and innovation, traits of liturgical practice. When read as a
liturgical text, the chapter clearly adopts rhetorical technique to encourage
and persuade the people of Israel to focus their worship on YHWH, not to be
distracted by the worship of other nations, and to ensure that their
communal identity as those chosen and rescued by YHWH continue to
remember and communicate their identity to the following generations. The
text is clearly using language and style that was culturally and contextually
relevant, but adapting it for its own purposes, and if the treaty form is being
adapted, then there must be something else to which it is adapting.
Conclusion
This chapter has provided the opportunity to apply the liturgical hermeneutic
to a specific text and examine the extent to which it is a useful approach. It
was clear to see that previous scholarship had suggested that there were
liturgical elements within Deut 6, but this was never specified nor was a link
made between any of the criteria and an understanding of liturgical practice.
Applying the three strands of this liturgical hermeneutic showed clearly that
all three were present within the text, and reading the text through this
approach revealed new things about the coherence of the structure of the
chapter as a whole, which have in general been overlooked through other
hermeneutical methods. What this liturgical approach revealed was a greater
sense of coherence of the chapter as a whole.
The application of the liturgical criteria then allowed the opportunity to
examine the text for the liturgical characteristics of continuity, adaptation and
innovation. These were particularly helpful in approaching the question of
whether it is possible to command love. It was helpful to examine Moran's
argument in detail, comparing those who agreed and disagreed, and the
strength of their argument for doing so. What this reading argues is that
whilst the text is undeniably ‘treaty-like’, this can only be understood
159
alongside the text’s adaptive and innovative approach in order to
communicate the particular theology.
This reading also emphasised the importance that arises out of the chapter of
passing on the faith to the next generation, and the significance of drawing
faith into every part of life. Both of these, along with other notable features
of Deut 6, have been particularly helpful in forming a paradigm with which to
respond to the initial question.
The next chapter will apply these liturgical criteria to Deut 26, another
chapter that has frequently been described in scholarship as demonstrating
liturgical features. As with this chapter, prior scholarship will be explored first
before applying this hermeneutic, and then examining key features of the text
in order to expand the paradigm that will respond to the initial question.
160
Chapter four: A liturgical reading
of Deuteronomy 26
Introduction to Chapter Four
Deuteronomy 26 has long been described as exhibiting liturgical features and
characteristics. As such it is, like Deuteronomy 6, an important choice of text
to examine through the liturgical hermeneutic outlined in this study. The first
part of this chapter will set out points of textual and critical concern through
translation and accompanying notes. The next section will examine how
scholars have used the terms ‘liturgy’ or ‘liturgical’ when writing about Deut
26 in order to show that this has been done inadequately, with particular
attention given to von Rad’s work, given the significance of his contribution to
this discussion. Having demonstrated that there are important weaknesses
with previous uses of these terms, the next section will employ the three
strands of the liturgical hermeneutic to examine the text in detail, using the
criteria to show clearly whether the description of the text as liturgical is
appropriate or not. The three strands are first, the importance of
remembrance, or anamnesis, second the liturgical collapse of time, and third
the connection between liturgy and mission. After this, the text will be
further explored to see whether the three liturgical characteristics of
continuity, adaptation and innovation are present.
It will be argued that an important part of the adaptive and innovative nature
of this chapter contributes towards a reading of the wider book as
demonstrating radical democratisation, particularly in its approach to cultic
matters. This will be set out in more detail, with support drawn from parallels
in Deut 12 in particular, as well as from other chapters. This exploration, as
well as wider work from the chapter, will then be drawn together as part of
the paradigm in the final chapter that was described in Chapter One as a
161
creative response to the current deadlock in discussions of fresh expressions
of church in an Anglican context.
Translation
26:1 And when you enter the land that the Lord your God is giving to you as
an inheritance and you possess it and you dwell in it, 2you will take from the
first of all the fruit of the earth which you bring in from your land, which the
Lord your God has given to you, and you will place it in a basket and you will
go to the place which the Lord your God will choose for his name to dwell.
3You will go to the priest, who will be present in those days, and you will say
to him, ‘I declare today to the Lord my God that I have entered in to the land
which the Lord swore to our ancestors to give to us’. 4And the priest will take
the basket from your hand and will set it down before the altar of the Lord
your God, 5and you will state before the Lord your God, ‘My ancestor was a
wandering Aramean, he went down to Egypt and he sojourned there, few in
number, but became there a great nation, strong and numerous. 6But the
Egyptians mistreated us, they afflicted us and they set harsh servitude upon
us. 7Then we cried out to the Lord the God of our ancestors and the Lord
heard our voice, and he saw our affliction, our trouble and our oppression.
8The Lord brought us out from Egypt by his strong hand and stretched out
arm with great terror and with signs and wonders, 9and he brought us to this
place and he gave to us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey. 10And
now, behold I bring the first fruit of the earth, which the Lord has given to
me.’ Then you will place it before the Lord your God and worship before the
Lord your God, 11and you will rejoice in all the goodness that the Lord your
God has given to you, and to your household, you and the Levite and the
sojourner who is in your midst.
12When you finish paying all the tithe of your produce in the third year, the
year of the tithe, and you have given it to the Levite, to the sojourner and to
162
the widow and have eaten in your gates and they are satisfied, 13 then you will
say before the Lord your God, ‘I have removed what is holy from the house
and also I have given it to the Levite and to the sojourner, to the orphan and
to the widow, according to all your commandments which you have
commanded me, I have not transgressed your commandments and I have not
forgotten. 14I have not eaten of it in mourning, and I have not removed any of
it when unclean, and I have not given any of it for the dead. I have obeyed
the voice of the Lord my God and I have done everything that you have
commanded me. 15Look down from your holy habitation, from the heavens
and bless your people Israel and the land which you have given to us just as
you swore to our ancestors, a land flowing with milk and honey.’ 16This day
the Lord your God has commanded you to do these statutes and judgements,
you shall be careful to do them with all your heart and with all your soul.
17You avow this day that the Lord will be to you your God, that you walk in his
ways, keeping his statutes and his commandments and his judgements, and
obeying his voice. 18The Lord avows that you this day will be to him a
treasured people, just as he promised to you, to keep all his commandments,
19and by setting you above over all the nations that he has made, for praise
and for renown and for honour, that you will be a people holy to the Lord
your God, just as he promised.
Notes
These notes will focus on the need for clarity over questions of translation
and interpretation for textual issues that are directly relevant for the
discussions in this chapter on liturgy and worship. As such, a few minor
points, for example in verse 18 will not be considered here, nor the
interpretative questions in verses 2, 8 or 12.
617
617
v.2 Both the LXX and SamP omit the phrase ‘which you bring in from your land’.
(McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 375; Christensen, Deuteronomy 21:10-34:12, p. 631.) This may
be due to haplography, for further discussion see Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 724. v.8 ‘and
by great terror’. ‘The LXX here and in 4:34 has … “and by great visions,” misreading the verb
as .’ (Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 728; see also Christensen, Deuteronomy 21:10-34:12,
p. 632). v.12 ‘LXX has a significant variation, designating the third-year tithe as a “second
163
26:3
The literal translation of the first words of this verse are ‘and you will go to
the priest who will be in those days’. This needs clarifying when translated
into English and for this reason McConville adds the words ‘in office’.
618
As
this is not found in the Hebrew text, I have used, as does Lundbom,
619
the
word ‘present’, although this also is not in the original, but does provide both
the clarity needed and maintains a more direct association with .
There is debate as to whether this verse should read ‘your God’ or ‘my God’.
BHQ argues, following the rule of lectio difficilior, that as the Masoretic text
represents a more difficult reading, ‘your God’ is more likely to be the
original. It further supports this by arguing ‘that TNF illustrates a parallel
tendency to simplify.’
620
Lundbom also argues that this should be read as
‘your God’, as he states that it is the individual addressing the priest. He
addresses the fact that the LXX has changed from the Masoretic text to make
it first person, but argues that this can be accounted for, as ‘the Vorlage of
the LXX could have lost a due to haplography’.
621
The rule of lectio difficilior is important, but in the case of this verse, the
evidence from within the verse and the importance of the wider context
means that ‘my God’ is the more appropriate reading. The focus of the
chapter is on the individual as they identify personally with the past struggles
and following deliverance of his people (‘the Egyptians mistreated us’, v.6;
‘we cried out to the Lord’, (v.7). From this personal identification with his
tithe”, a concept that became important in Jewish harmonization of the various tithe
commands.’ (McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 376). See also Driver, Deuteronomy, pp. 290-291.
v.18 ‘as he promised you, so. One MS and some LXX witnesses (GB and Papyrus 957) omit
“you, so,” which can be attributed to haplography’. (Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 735, see also
Christensen, Deuteronomy 21:10-34:12, p. 644).
618
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 375.
619
Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 719.
620
BHQ Third Fascicle, Deuteronomy, prepared by C. McCarthy (Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft:
Stuttgart, 2007) p. 120.
621
Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 724.
164
ancestors, he then goes on to make his own response and offering (‘I bring
the first fruit of the earth’, v.10). Whilst an error of haplography is possible, it
is equally possible that the error in the Masoretic text is due to dittography,
and that the LXX would represent the right reading.
622
26:5
in the Qal is normally translated as ‘to perish, to vanish or to stray’,
623
but
several commentators claim that ‘wandering’ is a better translation here.
624
Both Lundbom and McConville argue that this choice is more reflective of
both ‘the nomadic lifestyle of the patriarchs in Genesis’
625
and also the idea of
homelessness
626
which is carried on through the rest of the verse. The verb
occurs 174 times in the Old Testament and the vast majority of times it does
carry the meaning of perishing or destroying, but there is an important
minority of times where this is not the case. For example, 2 out of 20
occurrences in Deuteronomy have a sense of ‘loss’ rather than ‘perishing’
(Deut 22:3; 32:28). Similarly, 13 times in the wider Old Testament the word is
used to mean being ‘lost’ or a ‘refuge’.
627
This provides evidence from the
wider Old Testament and, importantly, within Deuteronomy itself that
although less common, this verb is used to indicate something other than
perishing or destroying.
Unlike Cairns
628
and Merrill
629
who both see this verse as pointing to Jacob,
Machiela argues for an interpretation that sees Abraham as the alluded to
622
McConville, Deuteronomy, pp. 375-6; D. L. Christensen, Deuteronomy 21:10 - 34:12, Word
Biblical Commentary (Thomas Nelson: Nashville, Tennessee, 2002) p. 631.
623
F. Brown, S. Driver and C. Briggs, The BDB Hebrew and English Lexicon, (Hendricksons:
Peabody, Massachusetts, 1906) p. 1.
624
Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 725; Christensen, Deuteronomy 21:10-34:12, p. 631; Nelson,
Deuteronomy, p. 303; McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 375; D. Machiela, ‘Who is the Aramean in
Deut 26:5 and what is he doing?’ in Revue de Qumran 23 (2008) pp. 395-403.
625
Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 725.
626
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 376.
627
1 Sam 9:3, 20; Job 11:20; Ps 119:176; 142:4; Eccl 3:6; Jer 4:9; 25:10, 35; 50:6; 51:55; Ezek
34:4, 16.
628
Cairns, Deuteronomy: Word and Presence, p. 223.
629
Merrill, Deuteronomy, p. 334.
165
ancestor.
630
Nelson, in a similar vein, although assuming Jacob as the primary
referent, argues use of language in v.5 that is ‘typical of Abraham (cf. Gen
12:10; 18:18, both J) expands the Aramean Jacob so that he grows into a
collective representative of all the patriarchs.’
631
If this is true, and given that there appears to be ambiguity within the text
allowing scholars to interpret the ancestor differently, this may well be a
deliberate way of broadening out the reference to include more than one
ancestor. This ancestor then becomes, in some way, a representative of the
ancestors who went down into Egypt and suffered, just as the ‘farmer’ (v.3)
bringing the offering is representative of those in the future who will be in the
land that God has promised to the people he has rescued. This concept of
representation and what it might mean for interpretation will be explored in
more detail below.
26:14
The word is derived from the verb meaning ‘to mourn’.
632
The verse
makes a clear distinction between what is acceptable ritual expectations for
Israel as compared with other ANE cultural funeral practices. These may well
have included special family meals and the supply of food and water left at
the grave for the dead to use in the afterlife.
633
This verse clearly prohibits
participating in these type of activities, as the use of the in could mean
either ‘for’ the dead, ‘that he has not contributed to mourning feasts’,
634
or
‘to’ the dead, as in an offering given up for a dead person. Several texts
demonstrate that fasting was associated with mourning in Israelite culture (2
Sam 1:12; Ezra 10:6; Neh 1:4; Esth 4:3; Ps 35:13-14; Joel 2:12). Other texts
630
Machiela, ‘Who is the Aramean in Deut 26:5 and what is he doing?’, pp. 395-403.
631
Nelson, Deuteronomy, p. 309.
632
Merrill, Deuteronomy, p. 336; Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 731.
633
Walton, Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament, pp. 319, 322 – 324. See
also Merrill, Deuteronomy, p. 336; Craigie, The Book of Deuteronomy, p. 323; Christensen,
Deuteronomy 21:10-34:12, p. 642.
634
Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 732.
166
also support this by contrasting feasting with mourning (Neh 8:9-10; Esth
9:22; Eccl 7:2; Is 22:12-13; Amos 8:10). Further to this, Dan 10:2-3 gives the
detail that when in mourning for three weeks, Daniel did not consume rich
food, meat or wine. Similarly, David refuses to eat when mourning for Abner
(2 Sam 3:35) and in 2 Sam 12:20-23, David creates confusion by fasting when
the child is alive but not fasting when the child dies. This evidence strongly
suggesting that the cultural norm was to fast as part of mourning. What is
seen is this verse is fasting being contrasted with the funeral practices of
other surrounding nations. This verse exhorts them to ensure that Israelite
worship, including funeral practices, is to be conducted in a way that remains
distinct from the surrounding cultures.
26:17
Verses 17 and 18 are the only two occurrences of the hiphil form of in
the Old Testament. This scarcity makes interpretation more difficult,
635
with
the Targums struggling to find an adequate translation.
636
Nelson translates
this verb as a causative (‘You have caused Yahweh to agree today to be your
God’),
637
but he does acknowledge, though, that an alternative translation of
the verb could be as an intensive,
638
and several scholars opt for this
alternative reading.
639
Three particular points support an intensive rather than causative reading of
the verb here. First is the acknowledgment that an intensive rather than
causative understanding of the hiphil, although less common, is a legitimate
way of interpreting the hiphil.
640
Second is the evidence that Tigay has drawn
635
D. I. Block, Deuteronomy, The NIV Application Commentary (Zondervan: Grand Rapids,
Michigan, 2012) p. 614.
636
BHQ, Deuteronomy, pp. 121-122.
637
Nelson, Deuteronomy, p. 304.
638
Nelson, Deuteronomy, p. 304.
639
For example, Christensen, Deuteronomy 21:10-34:12, p. 646; Tigay, Deuteronomy, p. 245;
Williamson, ‘Covenant’, p. 153; Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 734.
640
ed. E. Kautzsche, Gesenius' Hebrew Grammar, 2nd edn. (Oxford University Press: London,
1910) p. 145 §d.
167
upon from Job 35:9 and Ps 32:11 to argue that an intensive translation of the
hiphil is used elsewhere in the Old Testament
641
Whilst it could be argued
that in the case of Job 35:9, an intensive understanding of is not
impossible, with Ps 32:11 it would be difficult to argue for anything other than
an intensive interpretation of . The verb is being used as an
encouragement – there is no-one to cause someone to do this – and it also
intensifies the expression of rejoicing in the final verse of the psalm. The third
point that supports an intensive reading is that this particular use of language
could arise out of a covenant or treaty context,
642
and it is clear that
Deuteronomy does adopt both language and concepts from these forms
throughout. This last point is particularly important given that the verse, and
the wider rhetoric of Deuteronomy, is seeking to persuade the people to
commit to the law and commandments, and the covenant with God. A
causative verb here would have a sense of coercion, whereas the wider
context of the book as a whole is about persuasion.
The use of ‘liturgical’ as a description of Deuteronomy 26
in wider scholarship
Many scholars writing about Deut 26 draw attention to the elements of
worship, prayer and tithing that are clearly present in the text. As was noted
in the previous two chapters, where use is made of the terms ‘liturgy’ or
‘liturgical’ there is often no explanation as to the specific characteristics of the
text they are using to support this analysis, or how this relates to wider
liturgical studies and definitions.
643
This section will begin by focusing on von
Rad’s analysis, given the impact that his work on Deut 26 has had, before then
641
Tigay, Deuteronomy, p. 393.
642
Craigie, The Book of Deuteronomy, p. 325; Williamson, ‘Covenant’, p. 147.
643
See for example R. L. Christensen, ‘Between Text and Sermon: Deuteronomy 26:1-11’ in
Interpretation 49 (1995) p. 59.
168
examining how other scholars have also used the terms ‘liturgy’ or ‘liturgical’
in their analysis but without sufficient definition.
Von Rad and the ‘little historical credo’
One of the most significant commentators to make a connection between
Deut 26 and liturgy has been Gerhard von Rad. At the beginning of his essay,
von Rad argues that Deut 26:5ff has all the ‘characteristics and attributes of a
creed, and is probably the earliest recognisable example’.
644
He is keen to
stress that this must have been linked to an actual ‘cultic occasion’.
645
He
supports his point by quite rightly stating this could not simply have been a
statement freely composed in the moment, concluding therefore that it must
have been an existing statement of the faith of Israel.
646
Whilst agreeing with
his first point, it is difficult to say with certainty whether this really was an
existing statement of faith, or the product of a writer or later editor. Von Rad
acknowledges that it is not possible to be certain that Deut 26:5ff is the
earliest example of its genre. He does argue, however, that ‘both its concise,
simple form and its intimate connection with a cultic act of great antiquity
justify our belief that it is among the examples of the genre which
approximate most closely to the original.’
647
It is this basic creed, von Rad argues, that shapes the whole of the
Hexateuch,
648
the events in the ‘creed/s’ are the events that appear in the
wider Hexateuch, and there is nothing in the ‘creed/s’ that is not expanded
upon and developed in the Hexateuch. He acknowledges that the events at
Sinai are present in the Hexateuch but do not appear in the ‘creed/s’,
649
and
after exploring this strand, concludes that the Sinai tradition is ‘essentially an
independent entity within the hexateuchal tradition.’
650
He then draws a
644
von Rad, ‘The Form-Critical Problem of the Hexateuch’, p. 5.
645
von Rad, ‘The Form-Critical Problem of the Hexateuch’, p. 5.
646
von Rad, ‘The Form-Critical Problem of the Hexateuch’, p. 5.
647
von Rad, ‘The Form-Critical Problem of the Hexateuch’, p. 55.
648
von Rad, ‘The Form-Critical Problem of the Hexateuch’, p. 8.
649
von Rad, ‘The Form-Critical Problem of the Hexateuch’, pp. 5-7.
650
von Rad, ‘The Form-Critical Problem of the Hexateuch’, p. 14.
169
distinction between the Exodus tradition which he argues shows the
‘redemptive history’ as Israel travel from Egypt to Canaan, as opposed to the
Sinai tradition which concentrates on the revelation of justice and law to the
nation.
651
Von Rad is right in identifying a ‘type’ or ‘genre’ that has some attachment to
a ‘cultic occasion’ and that does summarise the major events of the
Hexateuch, minus the Sinai tradition, although whether it predates or
postdates the wider Hexateuch is a matter of some debate. What is more
important for the discussion here, however, is how these verses are being
defined as ‘liturgical’ and, in particular, how the word ‘creed’ is being used
and defined. Although von Rad introduces the word ‘creed/s’ into this wider
discussion about the origins and development of Deut 26, he does not
provide a clear definition for the term and this creates confusion not only in
his own work but for scholars engaging with his work subsequently.
At the time he was writing, the widely held scholarly opinion was that the two
‘liturgical formularies’ in Deut 26 were ‘late embellishments’.
652
Von Rad
argues strongly however, with a particular focus on 26:5b-9, that these are
genuine liturgical prayers used in practice and already in existence before the
Deuteronomist.
653
He supports this point in a footnote, stating that the
‘rhythmical and alliterative character of the opening phrases in particular
reveals its antiquity.’
654
This is very similar to a point he raises in discussion of
Deut 6, where again he argues that the passage is older because of its poetic
quality. However, both Weinfeld and de Moor argue that the poetic language
present in 26:5-9 is not ancient but actually demonstrates the presence of
later deuteronomic
655
or deuteronomistic language,
656
although they do both
651
von Rad, ‘The Form-Critical Problem of the Hexateuch’, pp. 18-19.
652
von Rad, ‘The Form-Critical Problem of the Hexateuch’, p. 3.
653
von Rad, ‘The Form-Critical Problem of the Hexateuch’, p. 4.
654
von Rad, ‘The Form-Critical Problem of the Hexateuch’, p. 4, footnote.
655
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, p. 33.
656
J. C. de Moor, ‘Poetic Fragments in Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic History’ in ed.
Martínez, A. Hilhorst, J. T. A. G. M. van Ruiten, A. S. van der Woude, Studies in Deuteronomy:
in honour of C. J. Labuschange on the occasion of his 65th birthday, (Brill: Leiden | New York,
New York, 1994) pp. 188-89.
170
acknowledge that there is some relationship to older material.
657
If poetic
quality is an indication of age it is difficult to know whether this quality is
there because the passage is genuinely old, or is a technique adopted by a
later author or editor in order to present the material as older or original.
Ultimately, neither the poetic nature of the text nor its relative age help to
further how a ‘creed’ is to be defined.
Another response to von Rad’s work by scholars has been to argue that the
form itself is not a ‘creed’ but something else, but given the lack of definition
provided by von Rad himself, these have the potential to become rather
circular arguments. For example, whilst acknowledging the useful insights
that can be gained from von Rad’s work, Craigie argues against reading it as a
creed as the words that were to be said were connected to the particular
celebration at the beginning of the settlement in the land.
658
Whilst this is
true, it is difficult to know why this in itself would rule out these verses from
being a creed, given that they could have used a creed for this purpose,
especially when he does state that these words almost certainly were used in
later worship.
659
He goes on to argue that the focus of the words are on the
land and that therefore it cannot be a creed because it ‘does not recount all
the major events in Israel’s past history, but selects those which most
naturally highlight God’s gift of a land to his people.’
660
But again it is difficult
to maintain the argument that this reason by itself would rule out these
words being a creed. For example, a comparison with some of the Church of
England’s authorised creeds and statements of faith
661
shows that some are
much shorter than others, and have a narrower focus, not recounting every
single significant part of redemption history. The wider lack of definition from
657
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, p. 33; de Moor, ‘Poetic Fragments
in Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic History’ pp. 188-89.
658
Craigie, The Book of Deuteronomy, p. 321.
659
Craigie, The Book of Deuteronomy, p. 321.
660
Craigie, The Book of Deuteronomy, p. 322. Emphasis original.
661
These are authorised creed-like statements that can replace a creed in an order of service.
171
von Rad and also from Craigie makes comparison and definition more
difficult.
Similarly, in his response to von Rad, Lohfink has argued that this is not a
creed but has as its basis an ‘offering prayer’, arguing that what appears in
these verses is not the root of the Hexateuch, but a later systematic summary
of it.’
662
Lohfink goes on to argue that this text was probably built up from a
pre-existing offering prayer, along the lines of “My father was a wandering
Aramean, but see now I bring here the first fruits of the fruit of the earth
which you have given me, Yahweh”.
663
The historical aspects were then
placed in between these two statements, and the conquest of the land was
added.
664
The text was then ‘further adapted to public recitation.’
665
Given
the setting of an offering, Lohfink may well be right in stating that this
appears to be an offering prayer rather than a creed. As both Mayes
666
and
Daniels
667
argue, however, attempting to separate out verses to discern an
older source overlooks the context in which they are currently set, and would
otherwise leave a lack of logic between v.5 and v.10. Ultimately, though, the
lack of definition of either ‘creed’ or ‘offering prayer’ makes it difficult to
know the criteria that are being used to make these decisions.
In his analysis of von Rad’s thesis, Hyatt also challenges this idea from the
position of the development of later tradition. He questions the likelihood of
these verses being an established ancient creed, given that Judaism appears
to look to Deut 6:4-9 as a ‘confession of faith’ and not ‘any of the so-called
historical Credos.’
668
Later historical use cannot prove categorically that these
verses were not an original creed, but as Hyatt points out, that these verses
662
Lohfink, ‘Culture Shock and Theology’, p.14.
663
Lohfink, ‘Culture Shock and Theology’, p. 14.
664
Lohfink, ‘Culture Shock and Theology’, p. 14.
665
Lohfink, ‘Culture Shock and Theology’, pp. 14-15.
666
Mayes, Deuteronomy, p. 333.
667
D. R. Daniels, ‘The Creed of Deuteronomy XXVI revisited’ in ed. J. A. Emerton, Studies in the
Pentateuch, (Brill: Leiden | New York, New York, 1990) pp. 237-38.
668
J. P. Hyatt, ‘Were there an Ancient Historical Credo in Israel and an Independent Sinai
Tradition?’ in ed. H. T. Frank and W. L. Reed. Translating and Understanding the Old
Testament, (Abingdon Press: Nashville, Tennessee, 1970) p. 168.
172
do not appear to feature more prominently in later Israelite and Jewish
religious practice does raise important doubts over von Rad’s claims.
Having outlined von Rad’s basic argument and some of the subsequent
scholarly critique, it is clear that the fundamental problem lies in the lack of
clear definition and criteria. So, for example, some scholars argue that what
von Rad identifies as a ‘creed’ is liturgical in some way, but just not a creed.
But at the same time there is little or no external reference provided to
defend their argument and provide support in defining whether a text is
liturgical and what it is that demonstrates this.
Wider analysis of the liturgical nature of Deut 26
As was highlighted through the section above complications arise through a
lack of definition as to what is meant when people use particular liturgical
terms such as ‘creed’ or ‘offering prayer’. This section will show that a lack of
adequate definition also affects the way in which wider scholarship has
analysed this chapter.
In describing Deut 26, Woods states that the chapter is setting out the way in
which the Israelite, once settled in the land, is to make ‘two liturgical
declarations’.
669
Woods describes the first of these as being made in front of
the priest and containing a response to both the promise of the land that had
been given to their ancestors and the actualisation of that promise in the
present.
670
Drawing the promise of the past into the ‘present’ moment of the
offering is an aspect of the liturgical collapse of time, part of the liturgical
hermeneutic, and this will be explored in more detail below. This is not
something to which Woods makes any reference and he then goes on to
describe the second declaration as being in the form of a ‘confessional short
credo’, vv.5-10.
671
As has already been discussed however, von Rad’s
definition of these verses as a credo is not without criticism and therefore
669
Woods, Deuteronomy, p. 261.
670
Woods, Deuteronomy, p. 261.
671
Woods, Deuteronomy, p. 261.
173
someone wanting to use this term would need to articulate how these verses
constitute a creed in light of those who argue against this point of view.
Fundamentally, Woods has not set out a clear definition of either ‘liturgical’
or ‘creed’ and this makes it difficult to know what textual features he is using
to support his viewpoint.
Rather than viewing Deut 26 as part of the deuteronomic law code, Cairns
argues that the code finishes at 25:16. He states that ‘covenant ratification
follows at 26:16’ and what occurs between these verses includes ‘liturgies
expressing gratitude and heartfelt acceptance of the code’s essence’.
672
What
he does not provide is an explanation of why a statement expressing
gratitude should be regarded as liturgy, so it is unclear whether he is
assuming that gratitude has to be a part of liturgy or whether any expression
of gratitude is liturgical in nature. Further, although he is right in that the
second half of the chapter (vv.12-19) does make strong statements about the
commands that God has given to his people and their commitment to keep
them, this theme is entirely absent in the first half of the chapter (vv.1-11)
where there are no words for law or commandment and the focus is upon
rescue, deliverance and provision.
Making a similar point about the theme of gratitude, Mann argues in his
discussion of the two ‘liturgies’ in this chapter, that in Deuteronomy,
‘gratitude, like love, has a dual orientation. It is the basis for worship – for
allegiance to the Lord alone – and it is the basis for stewardship – for
equitable distribution of the bounty of the land.’
673
Whilst it is clear that
elements of thanksgiving do feature in liturgy, it cannot by itself be the sole
characteristic that defines something as liturgical, given that there are many
liturgies in contemporary use that do not focus on gratitude. This theme, as
Mann describes it, does bear some resemblance to the liturgical strand of
‘worship and mission’, but this is not a point that he draws out. Instead,
672
Cairns, Deuteronomy: Word and Presence, p. 221
673
T. W. Mann, Deuteronomy, (Westminster John Knox Press: Louisville, Kentucky, 1995), p.
140.
174
whilst Mann’s idea of gratitude as a liturgical feature is not necessarily
incorrect, his use of it here is too broad and undefined and he does not
demonstrate how this relates to wider liturgical practice.
Brueggemann is the only scholar, in discussion of Deuteronomy, who comes
close to stating that the liturgical collapse of time is an important feature of
liturgy in this text. He demonstrates this through what he describes as
‘liturgical time’ in vv.6-8 in which ‘the gap between past time and present
time is overcome, and present-tense characters become involved in
remembered events.’
674
He also notes that ‘while the recital of verses 3-10
looks to the past, the recital of verses 13-14 looks to the future and the
blessing for which fidelity qualifies Israel and its land.’
675
This is very similar to
the liturgical collapse of time from the hermeneutic, but although
Brueggemann has observed a genuine feature of the text he has not made a
formal connection to liturgical studies.
Noting the words and instructions that accompany the tithe and in addition to
earlier instructions surrounding this, Tigay states that vv.1-15 ‘prescribe
liturgical declarations that the farmer is to recite when he brings the first
fruits to the Temple (vv.1-11) and after he gives the poor-tithe every third
year (vv.12-15).’
676
He goes on to argue that the focus of attention, despite
the context being an offering of food by a farmer, is switched from the natural
world, to the role of God in the history of his people. This type of prayer, he
argues, is important in Jewish liturgy and he relates this particularly to the
Birkat ha-Mazon.
677
What is interesting in his analysis, however, is that he
describes this emphasis on history as ‘one of the most important and original
features of the Bible’, which, he argues, then has a knock-on effect on
liturgy.
678
Whilst the importance of remembering and also a liturgical
collapse of time are part of the liturgical hermeneutic being used to define
674
Brueggemann, Deuteronomy, p. 247.
675
Brueggemann, Deuteronomy, p. 248.
676
Tigay, Deuteronomy, p. 237.
677
Tigay, Deuteronomy, p. 238.
678
Tigay, Deuteronomy, p. 238.
175
‘liturgical’, Tigay sees this as a biblical characteristic, of which liturgical texts
would be a part, rather than a specific characteristic of liturgical texts.
Like Tigay, Weinfeld also picks up the point that the prayers of the farmer are
not focused on asking for a good harvest in return for the offering, but rather
asks for a blessing on the people and land as a whole.
679
He goes on to argue
that it is this lack of direct relevance to the farmer that has ‘transformed a
ceremony into a liturgical oration. It is this liturgical oration giving national
and historical significance to the ritual act that is of central importance to the
author.’
680
Weinfeld is clearly right in stating that what could have simply
been personal prayers have been given a much broader content. He also
argues rightly that Deuteronomy is not concerned with prescribing the rites
that took place in the temple but is much more focused on prayer.
681
What
he does not then go on to demonstrate is why this broader national
perspective is a defining characteristic of liturgy.
Nelson also highlights the way in which the wider significance of these verses
is more than simply the ritual act they are describe.
682
He goes on to argue
that the focus is more on the opportunity to promote deuteronomic theology,
than on questions of liturgy and ritual.
683
It is too simplistic, however, to
create a dichotomy between theology and liturgy in Deuteronomy, a text in
which the two are so intertwined at times as to be distinct yet inseparable.
684
To relegate worship beneath theology is also to ignore the importance and
emphasis that the structure of Deuteronomy as whole places on worship,
seen, for example, how worship surrounds the deuteronomic law code itself.
This will be explored in more detail below. Nelson goes on to support his
argument by stating that theology was more important that initiating
679
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, pp. 32-33.
680
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, p. 33.
681
M. Weinfeld, ‘The Emergence of the Deuteronomic Movement: The Historical
Antecedents’ in Das Deuteronomium: Entstehung, Gestalt und Botschaft, ed. N. Lohfink
(Leuven University Press: Leuven, 1985) p. 87.
682
Nelson, Deuteronomy, p. 306.
683
Nelson, Deuteronomy, p. 306.
684
For example, Deut 6:4-9; 11:13-28; 27:1-8; 29:10-15.
176
liturgical systems, and this can be seen by the way that ‘a certain amount of
liturgical imprecision was acceptable.’
685
He makes this argument by
highlighting the ambiguity surrounding the location for the presentation of
the third-year tithe.
Nelson is right in suggesting that there does appear to be a lack of clarity
about the third-year tithe and scholars disagree about this point. For
example, both Tigay and Christensen argue that the lack of the phrase ‘the
place where Yahweh chooses to establish his name’, which is included in
instructions regarding the three annual pilgrimage festivals, means that the
third-year tithe is to be presented at a local assembly.
686
It is difficult to
argue, though, that the lack of a phrase is firm proof of a particular point, and
Wilson, who acknowledges this absence, argues that a central location could
be implied by the fact that all cultic activity has been centralised or that if
there was an understanding of the special presence of God then this too
could mean the central location.
687
He supports this by arguing that Deut
19:16-21, the ‘case of a malicious witness’, is an example with no mention of
the central sanctuary but an assumption that this would be the location, given
that the case was too difficult to judge ‘within your towns’.
688
This could well
be right, and the verse that he uses does support his interpretation, but again
it is based on implication rather than the specific detail within the text of this
chapter.
Even if there is a certain amount of ambiguity in the instructions for the third-
year tithe, as Nelson has argued, this does not in itself mean that the text is
not liturgical or does not contain within instructions for liturgical practices. It
simply means that for contemporary readers, there is not sufficient
information in order to discern where the third-year tithe was to be taken.
685
Nelson, Deuteronomy, p. 307.
686
Tigay, Deuteronomy, p. 243; Christensen, Deuteronomy 21:10-34:12, p. 642.
687
I. Wilson, ‘Central Sanctuary or Local Settlement? The Location of the Triennial Tithe
Declaration (Dtn 26, 13-15)’ in ZAW 120 (2008) p. 326.
688
Wilson, ‘Central sanctuary or Local Settlement?’, p. 327.
177
Conclusion to the use of liturgical as a description in wider scholarship
This section has examined the way in which various scholars have used the
terms ‘liturgy’ or ‘liturgical’ in their analysis of Deut 26, or in the case of
Nelson, have argued that the chapter is not predominantly focused on
establishing liturgical practices. What has been demonstrated is that the lack
of clarity over these terms causes problems as each person is defining the
words according to their own understanding, which is not made explicit for
anyone else to follow. The next section will now take the three strands of the
liturgical hermeneutic in turn and apply them to the text, which gives the
clarity of definition that has been lacking up to now.
A liturgical hermeneutic
Having demonstrated that the terms ‘liturgical’ and ‘liturgy’ have been
frequently used in imprecise ways by scholars to describe Deut 26, I will now
use the liturgical hermeneutic drawn from Gittoes’ three liturgical strands to
explore Deut 26. If the three strands are present in the chapter then it
provides a more coherent definition for the description of the text as
‘liturgical’, and will confirm whether or not this is an appropriate term to use
in describing this text.
The importance of remembering
Remembering is vital to the thrust of Deut 26. Although the root or a
derivative does not appear in the chapter, almost every verse in the first half
of the chapter (vv.1-11) deliberately seeks to ensure that God’s actions in the
past and the promises he made to his people are recalled. In the first three
verses, the people are reminded that the land that they will live in, or are
living in from the perspective of the farmer, is a gift that God swore to their
ancestors to give to them. Following from this, vv.5-7 then recount the
suffering of the people in Egypt; v.8 recalls the deliverance of the people by
178
God; v.9 speaks of the provision of the land again and v.10 brings the
attention to the present moment of the farmer by speaking of the offering
being brought in thanksgiving. This creates a ‘liturgical’ type pattern, not
dissimilar to the broad outline of an Anglican Eucharistic service, in that the
realities of suffering are recalled through confession, followed by a reminder
of God’s deliverance and his provision, and then opportunities to respond
through the offering, as well as other opportunities. The theme of joy through
remembering is introduced in v.11, where remembering leads to thanksgiving
and rejoicing, which includes the word a term used repeatedly in
Deuteronomy but only twice in the wider Pentateuch.
689
In vv.13-14 the farmer states that he has remembered to act according to the
laws and commandments, reinforced in v.13 by the phrase . In
v.15 the ancestors are again remembered as the recipients of the original
promise of the land and the speech of the farmer is responded to in vv.15-17.
These verses encourage the people to continue to remember, shaping the
identity of the people as those who will call to mind the laws and
commandments and will commit to live by them. This, in turn, leads to
blessing from God, vv.18-19.
The last 5 verses refer to remembering the commandments in order to keep
them, and the reiteration of the promises that God has been making to his
people. The importance of these actions and declarations, and how they
reinforce the corporate memory of the story of the people, is underlined by
the fact that this occasion was to be celebrated annually. This was not
something that would happen once, just at the first harvest in the first year
that the people entered the Promised Land, but was to be continually
repeated and brought to mind, year after year.
Food is central in this chapter and is intrinsic to this specific act of
remembrance and offering. As MacDonald argues, the link between the past
689
Exod 4:14; Lev 23:40.
179
and the present is forged at the moment when food is offered as the speech
recounts the promise of the past with the present fulfilment.
690
He adds that
the text contrasts the transition from the lack of land as a slave or wanderer,
which would have meant ‘lack of food security’, with God’s promise of land
through which he would bring about food security.
691
It is out of this security
that has been provided by God, that the Israelite has food to offer back to
God. The food offered becomes a tangible, and edible, enactment and
realisation of the historical promises and deliverance of God. It physicalises
the memory, the promises of the past becoming something that the people in
the present could touch, smell and taste, in the context of joyful communal
celebrations.
It is not just through food and touch, however, that this chapter creates a
physical association with memory. The farmer is expected to speak out the
words that have been provided and through this recitation the individual
‘rehearses the journey of Israel’s ancestors into Egypt and slavery, and their
deliverance by Yahweh.’
692
This is a unique provision in the Pentateuch that
sets out words to be spoken by an ordinary Israelite and not a priest or
leader. This is not simply speaking in order to remember, though, but
remembering becomes a means to transform the speaker through the active
and enacted connection with the community’s story. The first statement (v.3)
recognises the fulfilment of the promise of land that was made to the
person’s ancestors, by stating that they are now residing in that land. The
speaker then recounts the history of nomadic life, settlement in Egypt,
followed by persecution, slavery and rescue, before returning again to the
theme of being in the land of the promise and bringing the produce of that
land as recognition and proof of this. The declaration then leads to feasting
and celebration for the farmer as part of the wider community. The produce
of the land becomes the representation of the fulfilment of the story that is
690
N. MacDonald, Not Bread Alone: The Uses of Food in the Old Testament, (Oxford: OUP,
2008), p. 77.
691
MacDonald, Not Bread Alone, pp. 77-78.
692
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 377.
180
spoken about, and through the recital of the history, the individual and the
wider community are continually reminded of their story and identity.
693
A mere enunciation of God’s saving actions in the past would be
discourse only, but by reciting them anamnestically in connection with
the act of offering, the offeror accepts or “owns” them. Thus, the
enunciation becomes performative. Moreover, the grateful person
offering the firstfruits identifies himself with those who actually
experienced those actions in an age long past.
694
The important role of remembering in this chapter goes beyond simply calling
something to mind, but is remembering in order to shape and influence the
individual and through this the wider community. Remembering is vital to
this chapter as the people are encouraged to remember the story of their
ancestors, the promises that God made to them and then to commit to
remembering the laws that have been presented in the deuteronomic law
code. This remembering is enhanced through physicality, first that of the
food offered as the ‘first fruits’ offering and the third-year tithe, second the
physicality of speaking aloud, third of travelling to the place that God has
chosen, in order to present the offering itself.
Liturgical collapse of time
Deut 26 epitomises the idea of a liturgical collapse of time and, in a similar
way to the previous liturgical strand, this appears vital to the nature of the
chapter.
In the setting of the chapter, Moses addresses the people who, in their
narrative present, are yet to enter the Promised Land. They receive
instructions about what they will do in the future by bringing the first fruit of
the land as an offering to the place which God will choose. They are provided
with the words that they will say as they present their offerings which recount
693
See also, Christensen, ‘Between Text and Sermon: Deuteronomy 26:1-11’, p. 61; Mann,
Deuteronomy, p. 140.
694
A. O. S. B. Cody, ‘“Little Historical Creed” or “Little Historical Anamnesis”?’ in CBQ 68:1, Jan
2006, p 9.
181
the past, the story of slavery and rescue. There is then a transition from
recalling the past to moving to the present.
V.10’s opening two words emphatically draw the focus back to the present of
the offeror, which is simultaneously the future of Moses’ audience as well as
the past of the readers of the text. This verse also shows direct and personal
identification with the gift of the land as the speaker declares that God has
given it ‘to me’, rather than ‘to us’. This is similar to the use of the first-
person plural (vv.3-9; 15) which helps to create a direct personal connection
between the generations.
695
The liturgical collapse of time enables personal identification with the gift of
the land and also the duty to present the offering. As von Rad states through
participating in the liturgical act described here, the person praying
acknowledges ‘himself to be a direct recipient of the act of salvation which
was the gift of the promised land.’
696
The individual is then not just
recounting something that happened in the past, but finds themselves within
the narrative of promise and actualisation, and responding to this provision.
This, then, is no longer just a story of what happened in the past and the
promises God made to their ancestors. As Brueggemann puts it, ‘the gap
between past time and present time is overcome, and present-tense
characters become involved in remembered events.’
697
By drawing into the
present both what has happened and what will happen, the individual
becomes the one who, by the end of the chapter, is choosing to keep the
commandments that have been given and becomes a part of the treasured
people.
Added to this is that, regardless of when the text was originally written, it is
set out for each generation to read and to enact the instructions regarding
695
See Block, Deuteronomy, p. 603; Biddle, Deuteronomy, p. 384; Woods, Deuteronomy, p.
262.
696
von Rad, Deuteronomy, p. 159.
697
Brueggemann, Deuteronomy, p. 248.
182
the offering of the first fruits and the third-year tithe. This creates multiple
layers of past, present and future, the one of the original setting of in the
narrative as well and the ones of the proceeding generations of readers.
Through collapsing these different time-frames into the perspective of the
narrative world of the text, each successive generation is drawn into the
moment of making the declaration, committing to keep the commandments
and becomes part of the treasured people.
There are several textual features that further aid this process. First, the
significance in v.10, that the promised land is given ‘to me’ draws in each
generation. A second feature is the importance of in vv.16, 17 and 18.
The opening words of in v.16 brings the hearers attention ‘back to
the present moment of decision on the plains of Moab.’
698
The cumulative
effect in these verses, and the continuation of thought through v.18 to v.19
means that the emphasis on ‘today’ continues right up to the important
declarations found in the verses at the end of the chapter. As Clements
argues, emphasising this word is ‘a means whereby past, present and future
generations are bound together in a shared experience of encounter with
God.’
699
The people are simultaneously drawn back into the ‘today’ of the
narrative setting, and through this taking on the meaning of the statements of
identity and purpose in vv.17-19. The ‘today’ of the text then becomes the
‘today’ of each new generation.
McConville draws a connection between the repetition of ‘this day’ / ‘today’
and the return to the phrase ‘laws and statutes’ which also marks a
connection between the beginning and end of the law code, returning the
people to ‘the Mosaic present.’
700
The importance of the law is underlined in
v.16 where the words and form an inclusio with 12:1
701
around
698
Block, How I Love your Torah, O Lord!, p. 142.
699
Clements, The Book of Deuteronomy, p. 117.
700
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 382.
701
and appear in close proximity a number of times in the first 11 chapters (4:1,
5, 8, 14, 45; 5:1, 31; 6:1, 20; 7:11; 11:32) but from their use in 12:1 they never appear in the
same verse again until 26:16. It is also interesting that although occurs as both plural
183
the deuteronomic law code, reaffirming both the need for the people to hear
and to keep the commandments, but also the promises that God has made to
his people. By placing this at the point of ‘today’ this also ensures that each
subsequent generation realises the need to commit to the statues and
judgements as set out in the law code.
The third feature is the idea of representation. As was discussed in the notes
on v.5, the ambiguity surrounding the identity of the ‘ancestor’ means that
they can become representative of the ancestors who have formed the story
of God’s people in the past. In the same way, the ‘farmer’ bringing the first
offering, is representative of all those who in subsequent years will also bring
their own offerings and stand before the priest making this declaration.
There is a further complex play on time-frames within this idea of
representation. The farmer of the narrative future of the text will become an
ancestor of those who read the text and perform the ritual in later
generations. But at the same time, the narrative of the text through the use
of pulls the later generations back to the point of the narrative’s first
hearers, who are then those who precede the ‘farmer’. By being drawn back
to the narrative setting of standing on the edge of the Promised Land, the
later generations become the ‘ancestor’ of the farmer who will go in and
bring the first offering, while simultaneously the farmers who make the first
offering are the actual ancestors of the later generation. They both embody
the future that is being spoken about whilst being drawn into participating in
the past through reciting the words as if they themselves were the first
generation brought out of slavery in Egypt.
It is clear that significant features of this chapter demonstrate liturgical
collapse of time, and this is used by the author to reinforce the importance
for each generation to make a commitment to keep the commandments and
and singular in the first 11 chapters, it only appears in the singular between 12:1 and 26:16,
(16:18,19; 17:8, 9, 11; 18:3; 19:6; 21:17, 22; 24:17; 25:1).
184
also to take on the identity of the people of God, shaped by the story that
they recount in the act of offering.
Worship and Mission
There are three particular aspects of the text that demonstrate the third
liturgical characteristic, the importance of the connection between worship
and mission. The first is the way in which the focus of the declaration
accompanying the offering of the first fruits is wider than simply a blessing for
next year’s harvest; the second is the importance of providing food for the
poor, vulnerable and marginalised in society; the third is the commitment to
keep the commandments and through this to be formed as the people of
God.
The first point will simply be noted here as it has already been commented on
above, that the farmer focuses his words not on his desire for blessing on his
own crops and harvest for the coming year, but instead seeks the blessing of
the whole community. Suffice to say here that the very words from this act of
worship ensure that this cannot become a solitary, private or individualised
act of worship. Instead the mind and eyes of the worshipper are orientated
towards both the history and the on-going needs of the wider community.
The second point stresses the importance of providing for the poor. Through
placing the instructions of the third-year tithe in the middle of this significant
chapter, the need for care of and provision for the poor is brought into the
centre of the Israelites past, present and future identity. The recollections of
the past experiences of wandering, slavery and homelessness move straight
into the instructions for the third-year tithe. As McConville argues, the past
identity serves as an impetus to ensure that a key part of their on-going
identity includes provision for the vulnerable around them.
702
By placing the
instruction directly after the recitation of the people’s history, the connection
between the two appears to be deliberate. It is, therefore, no surprise that
702
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 384.
185
the third-year tithe is included, given that it provides a very practical and
tangible way of living out their identity as the people of God and as those who
have heard and decided to keep the commandments. This would also explain
why vv.12-15 are a part of this chapter, given that otherwise it could appear
to be an interruption in the flow of the text. Vv.1-11 are about the offering of
first fruits and not about instructions regarding tithing, and if vv.12-15 were
not part of the text, then v.11 would connect seamlessly to v.16. It could well
be that vv.12-15 are part of an editing together of two texts, or the insertion
of verses into a pre-existing text, either of which could be possible. In the
final form of the text, though, care for the vulnerable is an integral and non-
negotiable part of the identity of the people of God.
The third point is the commitment and formation of the people of God. The
historical story recounted in vv.1-11 draws the people towards the point of
agreement between them and God in vv.17-19 and through this ‘they
reactualize their identity.’
703
As was mentioned in the previous section, the
repetition of the word is significant in drawing each generation of people
to the point of commitment. Biddle argues that by repeating this particular
word, the text is emphasising the importance of participation by the
people.
704
The recounting of the nation’s history, and the urgent repetition of
then draws the subsequent generations to the point of decision-making.
The decision is not just to bring the first fruit of their fields, and not just to
provide for the poor, but to be formed and shaped by all the statutes and
judgements contained within the deuteronomic law code in order to become
God’s ‘treasured people’. The ‘mission’ as such, in this context, is therefore to
follow the law and become the example to the other nations, mentioned in
v.19.
In the liturgical setting of Deut 26, the people are being formed in three
particular ways: to pray for the well-being of the whole nation, to provide for
703
Robson, Honey from the Rock, p. 45.
704
Biddle, Deuteronomy, p. 392.
186
the poor and marginalised, and to commit to keep the judgments and
commandments that make up the deuteronomic law code. This brings with it
the responsibility of drawing the homeless within their midst into a place of
celebration and belonging (v.11), which is also related to the third-year tithe
(v.12).
705
This again shows the importance that care for the vulnerable and
marginalised is written into the liturgical text of this chapter.
Conclusion to the liturgical analysis
This section has clearly demonstrated that not only are the three liturgical
characteristics of the importance of memory, the liturgical collapse of time,
and the link between worship and mission, present in this chapter but are so
to a significant extent. The memory of the past is crucial to the formation of
people in the present, at the same time as different time frames collide
together, mixing past, present and future from different perspectives to draw
each new generation to the point of decision. All of which is done so that the
people commit to keeping the laws that have been set out in the
deuteronomic law code and that through this, their individual and corporate
identities will be formed.
This liturgical hermeneutic has provided a definition for the term and
demonstrated clearly the relationship between this definition and
contemporary liturgical scholarship. This work gives clarity to a term that is
used frequently but in a mostly undefined way. It also shows that Deut 26
clearly demonstrates the three liturgical characteristics that make up the
hermeneutical approach, and that therefore this is not an incorrect term to
use in describing and working with this chapter.
Continuity, adaptation and innovation in Deut 26
The previous section used the three liturgical strands from the hermeneutical
approach to assess whether there was enough evidence provided by using
705
Woods, Deuteronomy, p. 265.
187
these three strands to support a description of the text as liturgical. It was
clear that all three were not only present, but fundamental to the text.
Having demonstrated this, this section will now explore whether Deut 26 also
demonstrates the liturgical characteristics of continuity, adaptation and
innovation, and if so, how they are being used and to what effect.
Continuity
While there are new and adapted practices articulated in Deut 26, it is also
clear that this chapter is working within certain frameworks and patterns that
are present elsewhere in the Pentateuch. For example, Deuteronomy
continues the pattern of covenant renewal as observed in Exod 34 and Lev 26.
Similarly, instructions to bring the first fruits of the land as an offering are also
found in Exod 23:19; 34:26; Lev 23:10 and Num 28:26. Whilst this does
demonstrate continuity between Deut 26 and these other passages, it is a
little surprising that the offering of the first fruits is not mentioned in Deut
16:1-17, a more natural continuation of the pattern found in the above
passages, but rather is found in 18:4
706
and here in 26:2.
The context of the covenant renewal in Exod 34 is the reaction against the
golden calf incident when Moses received the first stone tablets. Having
recounted the breaking of the covenant in Exod 23 with the associated
disloyalty shown to Yahweh, the focus in Exod 24 is its restoration.
707
In Exod
34:6-7 are statements about the nature of God, which then precede the
issuing of the commandments and instructions. These are not dissimilar to
the declarations made at the end of Deut 26 although, unlike in Exod 34,
these are placed after the issuing of the instructions, forming a conclusion to
the wider deuteronomic law code. There are, however, two noteworthy
points of discontinuity between the two passages. Exod 34:22, 26 uses a
technical word for firstfruit, , but this does not appear in Deut 26, nor
anywhere else in Deuteronomy. Furthermore, the focus in Exod 34 is on the
706
McConville, Deuteronomy, pp. 377-78.
707
Childs, Exodus, pp. 610-11; Durham, Exodus, p. 464.
188
encounter between God and Moses, and in Exod 34:31-32 it is reported that
Moses then communicates the commandments, first to the leaders and then
to the rest of the community. In Deut 26 the entire chapter is the speech of
Moses to the people, there is no mention of Moses’ private conversation with
God, almost as if Deuteronomy is the recorded speech referred to in Exod
34:31-32.
As the covenant is renewed in both of these passages, the emphasis is
particularly on God’s initiative and instruction, with both chapters also
concerned to communicate the right way in which Israel is to carry out its
worship of God. Deuteronomy then takes these parallels and moves them
into the recorded speech of Moses to the people, rather than an individual
encounter with the rest of the community appearing almost as an after-
thought in the Exodus version. This is an important example of
Deuteronomy’s focus on radical democratisation, where all are drawn into
hearing the words of God and are invited to respond. This theme will be
developed further below.
There is also a connection between Deut 26:1-11 and Lev 23:9-14, in that
both issue instructions about the offering of the first fruit of the harvest.
708
The Leviticus passage provides details as to the specific content of this
offering, whereas Deut 26 characteristically does not specify the details of the
actual offering. Unlike Deuteronomy, the relevant passage in Numbers, (Num
28:26-31) also provides a list of the offerings made for the day of the first
fruits, but some of the details of amounts are different from the Leviticus
passage. This may be because some of the offerings in Leviticus are
considered ‘private’ and therefore do not need to be listed.
709
The Leviticus
passage, having depicted the offering being made to God, then records that
‘God, in turn, releases the rest of the harvest for his people’s use.’
710
Both the
708
M. Noth, Leviticus, trans J. E. Anderson (SCM Press: London, 1962) p. 170.
709
T. R. Ashley, The Book of Numbers, TNICOT (Eerdmans: Grand Rapids, Michigan, 1993) p.
567.
710
J. E. Hartley, Leviticus Word Biblical Commentary (Word Books: Dallas, Texas, 1992) p. 385.
189
Deuteronomy and Leviticus passages record that the offering of the first fruits
of the harvest was to be part of a wider communal celebration where food is
consumed. The role of the wider community being drawn together is
emphasised, and in Deut 26 this is placed alongside the constant, repeated
concern for the marginalised in the community.
The reference to the ‘wandering Aramean’ (26:5) also provides a point of
continuity for the people. This particular continuity is not through reference
to a particular text, but, as was stated above, through a figure who becomes a
representative figure of the ancestors of the people and so provides
continuity for each generation to the story of their ancestors.
Through the points of continuity, Deut 26 emphasises particular, significant,
theological themes. For example, stressing the importance of following
correct worship practices whilst rejecting and avoiding the practices of
surrounding nations. The text also makes important declarations about
God’s character and emphasises the importance of communal eating and
celebrating. However, as noted, there are adaptations made here to
emphasise the two points of radical democratisation and concern for the
vulnerable: two vital points for deuteronomic theology.
Adaptation
The previous section illustrated ways in which Deut 26 demonstrates
similarities and points of continuity with other texts showing a covenant
renewal and offering of first fruits. At the same time as noting these, it also
became clear that there were particular points of adaptation. These were
first, the change in Deuteronomy to have Moses speaking to the community,
rather than conversation between Moses and God; second, the loss of
specificity in terms of what the offering of the first fruit was to contain, which
could explain the lack of the specific term for first fruit; and third, the
inclusion of the vulnerable in the celebrations after the offering. Added to
this is the way Deut 26 demonstrates adaptation of the covenant formula.
Rofé argues that a covenant does not have to be monotheistic, it does not
190
have to deny the presence of other kings merely forbid the people to serve
them. In contrast, Deuteronomy, he goes on to argue, is monotheistic, as
seen through the adaptation of the basic covenant formula to include
language associated with election () and that speak of a special identity
( ).
711
It is important to note, however, that this adaptation of form is
also something that occurs elsewhere in scripture.
As mentioned above, the instructions regarding the first fruit offering do not
appear as part of the instructions regarding festivals and offerings in Deut 16.
This is unlike Exod 23:14-19, Lev 23:1-14 and Num 28, all three of which
include mention of and instructions for first fruits as part of the wider
offerings and festivals instructions. First fruits receives a passing mention in
Deut 18:4, but only as part of a list of offerings that go to make up the
provision for the priests, given that they are not to be provided with an
apportionment of land of their own. The deliberate placing of this offering
separately from the other offerings and tithes means that this passage does
not just become the conclusion of the law code, mirroring as it does the
commands about worship at the beginning of the law code, but it becomes a
profoundly theological statement. The offering of first fruits of the land can
only be possible once the people of God have not just gone into the Promised
Land, but are settled enough in it to be secure enough to plant and harvest
crops. This, then, is not just about setting foot into the land, this is about
settlement in the land. The promises that God made to their ancestors will
have been fulfilled. This message is reinforced in v.1 through the use of
particular words associated with the land as a gift from God, , , ,
, and . This is followed in v.2 by the phrase
. The first declaration that the farmer makes in v.3 repeats this theme
through reference to the promise of land by God to his ancestors. Bringing
the crops as an offering will be a sign of the fulfilment of the promises of God.
711
A. Rofé, ‘The Covenant in the Land of Moab (DT 28,69-30,20): Historico-literary,
comparative, and formcritical considerations’ in Das Deuteronomium: Entstehung, Gestalt
und Botschaft, ed. N. Lohfink (Leuven University Press: Leuven, 1985) p.319.
191
Repetition of this by future generations will embody and enact this for them
making it more than something that is just recited but is physical and tangible
as well.
This future delayed fulfilment of a promise of God has echoes of the
beginning of Moses’ calling from God. In Exod 3:12, God reassures Moses
that the sign confirming it is God calling him to bring the people out of Egypt
will be the people worshipping God on the mountain where Moses currently
stands. Before witnessing this confirming sign, Moses will have first to return
to Egypt, convince his own people, confront Pharaoh, bring the people out of
Egypt and then lead them to the mountain. In a similar way, before the
people are able to realise the fulfilment of the promise, they will have to
conquer the promised land, settle in it and produce crops in order for them to
then take the produce of the land as an offering and make this declaration.
This delayed fulfilment, and its mirroring of Moses’ calling, could have a dual
function. First, seeking to ensure that the people’s trust in and following of
God is continued for the long term, and second, that Moses’ character and his
persistence in believing in the fulfilment of God’s promise is dispersed and
transferred to the people as a whole. This too becomes a potential pointer
towards a radical democratisation.
The settlement into the land also connects to the adaptation of the third-year
tithe to include provision for the vulnerable. As McConville writes,
‘deliverance from homeless slavery into “place” and home brings with it the
responsibility to draw the homeless fully into the experience and celebration
of rooted belonging (11).’
712
The people’s experience of slavery and
homelessness is not something to be forgotten once they are settled, but
their memory of it is to drive their care of and provision for the marginalised
and homeless that are in their community.
712
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 384.
192
The adaptations in this chapter are used clearly and effectively to reinforce
key, deuteronomic, theological concerns. The active and enacted memory
emphasises the fact that the land is a gift from God that he promised to their
ancestors. They then live out the fulfilment of this promise, bringing their
offerings of the produce of the land and participating in an active
remembering of God’s promise and fulfilment. Simultaneously, their memory
of when they, too, were homeless serves as a prompt to care for others in the
community. The promise and fulfilment of the promise, as well as the
responsibilities of it, are no longer just for Moses, but are for the whole
community.
Innovation
Deut 26 does not just continue or adapt previous practices or concepts, but
also demonstrates innovation. For example, as has been noted above, the
instructions regarding the provision of the third-year tithe for the poor is
something that does not appear anywhere else.
713
The offering of the first fruit of the harvest would have been a ‘new religious
institution in Israel’ that only makes sense for the people once they are
settled in the land and have produce from it to offer.
714
This is reinforced by
the future orientation of the first two verbs in 26:1. This celebration through
offering is ensuring that a connection is made between the history of the
people and their present, albeit a ‘present’ that is itself constantly moving,
through finding a way of connecting this in a manner that reflects the now
settled, agricultural lives of the people, in comparison with the nomadic lives
in the wilderness. This does not demonstrate ‘innovation’ in terms of
comparison with other passages as there is clearly mention of ‘first fruits’ in
other passages, including in Deuteronomy (see also Exod 23:16,19; 34:22, 26;
Lev 2:14; 23:10, 17, 20; Num 18:13; 28:26; Deut 18:4). The reason for
drawing attention to this here, however, is that this passage provides the
713
Tigay, Deuteronomy, p. 242; McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 377.
714
Craigie, The Book of Deuteronomy, p. 320.
193
details for a celebration that will be new to the people once they are settled
in the land, as they transition from a nomadic to agrarian society. This raises
an interesting point to consider in the next chapter of the study in terms of
the contrast between the Anglican liturgical calendar, which has remained
predominantly agriculturally and rurally bound, as compared with the
dramatic growth of urban populations in England over the last two centuries.
This is perhaps because the Old Testament calendar itself is also largely rural
and has influenced the pattern of Christian worship and celebrations.
As has been mentioned above, the concept of representation is important in
this chapter. In terms of innovation, the most significant point in this chapter
is the provision for and the requirement of the individual to speak out words
in a ritual context. This is the only occasion that the Old Testament specifies
the actual words an individual worshipper is to say.
715
Tigay highlights Deut
21:7-9
716
as also providing specific words to recite in a ritual context. But
although those verses have a ritual setting, the words are spoken only by the
elders and not by members of the wider community, making it a different
type of instruction than the one found in Deut 26. Equally, there are recited
words recorded in Num 10:35-36, but again the context of these is different
from Deut 26. Num 10:35-36 provides words to be uttered when moving
from camp or setting up a new camp, rather than a liturgical context. They are
also spoken only by Moses and not by anyone in the wider community.
Equally, there is no indication in the text that this is an on-going command of
words that are to be said ritualistically. Rather they are part of the narrative
recounting something that was taking place. The uniqueness of this provision
is further underlined by 26:5, 13, the only places in the Old Testament that
have the phrase . This is not an instruction for the solo
leader, or for the elders, but for each individual to speak before God.
715
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, p. 32; McConville, Deuteronomy, p.
384.
716
Tigay, Deuteronomy, p. 237.
194
The contrast between this passage and Exod 34 could not be greater. In Exod
34:3, no-one is allowed anywhere near the mountain as Moses meets with
God, let alone has the ability to speak before God. The focus is on Moses as
the leader, responsible for meeting with God and becoming the conduit for all
communication. In Exod 34:31-32, Moses speaks first with only the leaders of
the community before speaking to everyone else. This reinforces a hierarchy
in the community which does not feature at all in Deut 26, in fact by the end
of Deut 26, the only distinction is between God and the people, rather than
distinctions within the people themselves.
In Lev 23:9-14, the instructions are given to Moses to tell the people to bring
a sheaf of the first fruits of the harvest. This sheaf is then passed to the priest
who raises it up to God. The verses also detail the offering that is to be made
alongside this first sheaf. Moses is addressed directly by God here, unlike in
Deuteronomy which focuses on Moses’ delivery to the people. Also in
Leviticus, the offering is made in silence and the priest carries out the ritual
actions. ‘Während die Opfer der Priesterschrift in absoluter Stille dargebracht
warden, ist für das Deuteronomium offenbar das Gebet wichtiger als das
Opfer’.
717
This is in definite contrast to Deut 26 in which the individual speaks
and also carries out actions themselves, although there is involvement by the
priest as well. Num 28:26-31 similarly focuses on the details of the offering
that is to be made on the day of the first fruits, but unlike in Lev 23, there is
no specified direction given for the priest. Interestingly in both the equivalent
Numbers and Leviticus passages, the offering receives more attention and
focus than does the offeror.
The individual Israelite is given here the opportunity to speak out the history
of the people for and by themselves and by speaking these words, they
intentionally place themselves within this story and are shaped by it. For
example, their concerns are taken from their own need to grow crops and to
717
N. Lohfink, ‘Opfer und Säkularisierung im Deuteronomium,’ in Studien zu Opfer und Kult im
Alten Testament mit einer Bibliographie 1969-1991 zum Opfer in der Bibel (ed. A Schenker;
Tübingen: Mohr [Siebeck] 1992) p. 21.
195
pray for the whole nation, and in the second liturgical declaration, they only
make the declaration once they have fulfilled the criteria of sharing the tithe
with the poor and vulnerable. Whilst this could sound overly utopian, it must
be acknowledged that it is almost certainly just the male farmer who is
making this declaration, a person who has land and the ability to bring an
offering from it. So, for example, the recipients of the tithe here are silent, as
are almost certainly the women, children and slaves of the household.
Despite this, this text still presents a marked difference in comparison to the
instructions in the equivalent passages in Exodus, Leviticus and Numbers. In
Deuteronomy, the individual is addressed directly, given specific words and
actions to say and the focus is on these rather than the detail of the offering
itself.
Conclusion to continuity, adaptation and innovation
This section has clearly shown the presence of continuity, adaptation and
innovation in Deut 26 in comparison with other Pentateuchal texts. The use
of continuity ensures that Deuteronomy is to be found within the historical
stream of Israelite worship and is promoting and encouraging practices that
are coherent with how the faith has been seen and understood. Yet at the
same time, the text shows clear examples of adaptation and innovation in
order to forward the particular theological concerns that are central to the
book as a whole. An important idea that was referred to on more than one
occasion in the above analysis was that of radical democratisation, and this
will be discussed in more detail below.
The importance of liturgy as a framework for the law code
Having clearly demonstrated the presence of the liturgical strands and the
liturgical characteristics, and having begun to draw out some of the
implications of these for interpretation of the text, it is also important to
show how liturgy frames the deuteronomic law code. This is important
196
because the connection between chapters 12 and 26 demonstrate the
importance of liturgy for the book as a whole, while drawing attention to the
connection between these two chapters is also significant for the discussion
about radical democratisation in the section that follows.
Clear and intentional links are made between Deut 26 and Deut 12 through
the deliberate repetition of words and phrases that ensure this connection.
The phrase is one significant way in which this connection is
made,
718
and stylistic and thematic links are also reinforced through ‘the
verbs , “to keep,” and , “to do, practice”’.
719
The deuteronomic law
code thus begins in Deut 12 with an instruction to keep and do all the statutes
and judgments that are about to be expounded. It similarly ends with this
same reminder in respect to all the laws that have been set out. In Deut 26,
however, the return to the words ‘keep’ and ‘do’ are then drawn into the
highly significant declarations at the end of the chapter that articulate the
vital relationship between Yahweh and his people. Vv.16-19 form an
intentional and formal conclusion to the law code of chapters 12-26, and
provide a transition from this section to the final chapters of the book.
720
One important way which in which the inclusio is created between Deut 26
and Deut 12 is through the repetition of similar instructions about worship.
721
In 12:5-7 the instruction to the people is to go to the place that God will
choose in order to bring their offerings and tithes. This is then repeated, with
further detail, in 26:1-2. It is clear that both of these chapters are focusing on
worship, though McConville does not draw attention to the fact that in Deut
12 the context is very much the unacceptable worship practices of the people
who currently live in the Promised Land. As has been mentioned above,
however, it could be argued that the declarations in 26:14 are also made in
718
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 376; Block, How I Love your Torah, O Lord!, p. 614. S. J. De
Vries, ‘The Development of the Deuteronomic Promulgation Formula’ in Biblica 55 (1974) p.
303.
719
Block, How I Love your Torah, O Lord!, p. 614.
720
Block, Deuteronomy, p. 598; Mann, Deuteronomy, p. 141.
721
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 376. As does Woods, see Woods, Deuteronomy, p. 265.
197
comparison with other neighbouring religious practices, but this is not
clarified by the text and the focus remains on enacting the right worship of
Yahweh in the way in which he has set it out. If this is what occurs, then the
two chapters at the start and end of the law code would be emphasising the
acceptable way of worshipping God in contrast to the practices of the
surrounding nations. Deut 12 is setting out the warnings about the reality of
entering the land, needing to conquer it and avoid the temptations of the
worship practices of those already inhabiting it. Deut 26, on the other hand,
envisions a time when the land is conquered, settled and the people no
longer have the same immediate concerns.
As well as providing a conclusion to the law code, Markl argues that Deut 26
has a double function within the structure of the book through repetition of
themes and phrases from Deut 6-11, not just Deut 12. He highlights
particularly the repetition of ‘commandment, the statutes, and the
judgements’ (Deut 6:1), and also the use of ‘texts of profession’ in both
chapters 6 and 26.
722
This, he argues, shows the transition between the child
who is motivated to obey Torah in 6:25,
723
that becomes the adult who makes
the profession of faith in Deut 26:13-15 which demonstrates the process of
education from prescription to fulfilment.
724
Whilst it may not be possible to
prove categorically that what Markl suggests is what the writer of these two
passages intended, his analysis does draw attention to the emphasis placed in
the two chapters on both learning about the law and commandments and,
from that, committing to live accordingly.
The presence of the three strands of the liturgical hermeneutic, as well as
those of continuity, adaptation and innovation have shown that Deut 26
clearly demonstrates the characteristics of a liturgical text. The strong
parallels drawn between this chapter and Deut 12 show the significance of
722
D. Markl, ‘Deuteronomy’s Frameworks in Service of the Law (Deut 1-11; 26-34)’ in
Deuteronomium – Tora für eine neue Generation, ed. G. Fischer, D. Markl & S. Paganini
(Harrassowitz Verlag: Wiesbaden, 2011), pp. 271-2. See also p. 274.
723
Markl, ‘Deuteronomy’s Frameworks in Service of the Law (Deut 1-11; 26-34)’, p. 273.
724
Markl, ‘Deuteronomy’s Frameworks in Service of the Law (Deut 1-11; 26-34)’, p. 273.
198
worship to the book as a whole, shown by the deliberate placing of these two
chapters as frameworks around the deuteronomic law code. This shows the
importance being placed on worship, underlining the right way to worship
God in contrast with the practices of other nations. As Block puts it, this
delivers ‘a profound theological message: meaningful and acceptable cultic
worship provides the framework for life.’
725
This is further evidence that, as
was argued in Chapter Two, liturgy and worship are dominant themes
through the book.
This stress on the importance of worship in the framework of the law code,
Rofé argues, makes it the ruling theme of the collection.
726
He supports his
point by drawing Deut 25:17-19, with its reference to wiping out Amalek, into
the same section as Deut 26, following the wider concentric arrangement that
he identifies within the law code. This then becomes part of the fulfilment
from God that Israel will be safe from all her enemies (12:10).
727
He is not
alone in arguing that the frame begins in 25:17. Braulik also supports this by
arguing that the return to themes from Deut 12 begins here. ‘Mit 25, 17
beginnt schon die Rahmung des Gesetzeskorpus, die auf Themen aus Dtn 12
zurückgreift, wobei die zwei Rituale in 26, 1-15 bewußt als Abschluß des
Gesetzeskorpus gedacht sind.’
728
The mention of Amalek in 25:17 is a definite
disjunction from the summary of various laws in the preceding verses, and a
break is marked in the text between 25:16 and 25:17.
729
This refers, in part,
not only to the instructions in Deut 12, but also back to the theme of the first
four chapters, which contain details of Israel’s interactions with other nations,
although the focus there is more on the Amorites, and Amalek is not
mentioned. This also explains why the prohibitions regarding the copying the
worship of other nations is present overtly in Deut 12 but not Deut 26. As
725
Block, Deuteronomy, p. 598.
726
A. Rofé, Deuteronomy: Issues and Interpretation, OT Studies (T & T Clark: London | New
York, New York, 2002), p. 67.
727
Rofé, Deuteronomy: Issues and Interpretation, p. 66.
728
G. Braulik, ‘Die Abfolge der Gesetze in Deuteronomium 12-26 und der Dekalog’ in Das
Deuteronomium: Entstehung, Gestalt und Botschaft, ed. N. Lohfink (Leuven University Press:
Leuven, 1985) p. 260.
729
BHQ Third Fascicle, Deuteronomy, p. 72.
199
Vogt states, if ‘the entire legal section is seen as the means by which the
people respond to Yahweh’s blessings and gracious acts on their behalf, Deut
12 makes explicit that proper worship is at the heart of this response.’
730
This
is not simply about ensuring that provision is made for instructions for
worship, but this has a clear and direct influence on the structure of the book
as a whole.
In his comparison of the similarities between Deut 12 and Deut 26, Clements
draws attention to the way that these two chapters provide the framework
that has been noted above.
731
But significantly, he also goes on to argue that
the ‘framework of religious understanding’ seen in these two chapters is also
seen ‘in much the same way that the laws themselves are modified and
infused with a host of religious features calling for compassion and
commitment to the welfare of the entire nation.’
732
In his comment here,
Clements misses out on including the instructions for Israel to show care and
consideration to those who are not Israelites, for example instructions
regarding the as well as instructions such as those concerning captive
women (Deut 21:10-14). Despite this oversight, Clements still makes an
important point here as he draws a parallel between the priority of worship in
the law code and how this is manifested in the importance placed on
demonstrating care for others. Although he does not define it this way, what
he describes is the liturgical characteristic of the connection between worship
and mission. The importance of worship for the book as a whole is shown not
just through texts with an overt focus on liturgy and worship, but also through
ensuring that the rest of life is governed by the principles enshrined in Deut
26:16-19. That Israel will commit to keeping God’s laws not just in terms of
liturgical practice, but in how they live their whole lives, is a reflection of their
identity as God’s people. The presence of this liturgical characteristic thus
730
Vogt, Deuteronomic Theology and the Significance of the Torah, p. 203.
731
Clements, Deuteronomy, p. 114.
732
Clements, Deuteronomy, p. 114.
200
described, reveals the influence of liturgy on the structure of the book as a
whole.
Radical democratisation
Since the work of De Wette, there has been an association in scholarship
between Deuteronomy and the reforms of Josiah. The acceptance of this can
be seen in the work of scholars such as Weinfeld, who argues that
Deuteronomy pushes an agenda of centralisation, secularisation and
demythologisation.
733
This view, also, has gained much support through
subsequent scholarship. Other scholarship however, for example Vogt,
734
has
begun to argue that this is not the only, or even the right, way of interpreting
the deuteronomic material. The point argued here, is that what takes place in
Deut 26, and in other places throughout Deuteronomy, is a push not to
centralise the cult, but rather to bring about a radical democratisation of the
cult and, further, of the Israelite society in general. This flows naturally on as
a continuation and development of the work examining the liturgical
characteristics of adaptation and innovation, and looking at the reason behind
these developments. Evidence from this chapter, but also importantly from
Deut 12, will lend support to this argument, showing that this is not an
isolated occurrence, but is to be found throughout the book as a whole.
The rhetorical focus in Deut 26 is on the responsibility of the individual, and
by extension the people as a whole, put in terms of their response to God’s
provision of land once they have settled in it. The central character is the
individual worshipper as he presents his offering, the words he is to say and
the actions he is to perform. In contrast, the priest is silent throughout, and
described simply as the one who happens to be in office at that time. The
focus of attention is then not on the cult and the priests, even the specific
733
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-11; Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School.
734
Vogt, Deuteronomic Theology and the Significance of the Torah, p. 4.
201
details and quantities of the offering are not listed, but rather on the
individual’s response to God and the words that they say as they declare the
history of the people and affirm their keeping of the law. This then clearly
shows that the cult at the ‘centre’ and its rites and rituals are not of primary
importance in this chapter. Rather, it is representative individuals making
their offering, and through this recounting and identifying with the story of
the people as a whole. This culminates with the call for the people to commit
to keeping the commandments and to become the people of God. The focus
is on the people, the land, the promises that God made and the fulfilment of
them.
The beginning chapters of Leviticus also portray Moses addressing the people
about bringing offerings to God. The focus in Leviticus is on the food offering
being a ‘pleasing aroma’ to God, whereas in Deut 26, the focus is taken away
from the detail of the offering as such and is broadened to the history of the
people and the commitment to keep the whole of the law and
commandments that have been detailed in the previous chapters. The focus
then becomes about the identity of the people, shaped by their history and
committed to following the law, rather than God being pleased with the meat
or grain that has been brought for a particular type of offering. In Leviticus,
having told Moses to address the people, he then addresses the priests with
further instructions about offerings. There is no such further instruction
following Deut 26, and the reference to the priests’ and Levites’ shares of
offerings found in Deut 18:3-8, is very limited in comparison. Although
obviously, Deuteronomy exhibits little interest in the detailed role and
function of the priests throughout, so it is consistent with its focus that there
is little instruction found here.
Democratisation of power, Deut 16, 18 and 29
Support for this idea of radical democratisation is found throughout
Deuteronomy, for example in the appointment of leaders, the restrictions
202
placed on the monarchy and in Deut 29, where all the people stand equal
before God in the covenant renewal ceremony.
In his discussion of the ‘altar-law’, McConville argues that what he describes
as ‘the ambiguity’ of Deuteronomy’s attitude towards the cult is seen also in
the attitude towards the monarchy, as well as wider political leadership.
735
He supports this by arguing that what is seen in Deut 17:14-20 restricts and
limits the monarchy to the extent that the role of the king as described here is
‘virtually unrecognizable in terms of ancient Near Eastern expectations.’
736
McConville had developed this argument in an earlier book, where he states
that Deuteronomy chooses not to use language that promotes difference
between the people. Instead they are called ‘“brothers”; tribal distinctions
are played down; and it is a single and unified nation that is brought into the
land.’
737
He also continues this argument in his later commentary on the text.
Here he argues that the lack of hierarchy is continued through the lack of a
primary representative, neither a priest or king who leads the worship and
sacrifices in Deut 12 but all the people, and there is no sense of mediation.
738
‘This integrity of the people is no light or sentimental thing, but makes
demands. It involves the inclusion of slaves, or servants, in the big picture of
the people of God, as well as the Levites, who have no substance of their
own.’
739
This democratisation of power can also be observed in Deut 16. Vogt argues
that in this chapter, Deuteronomy gives power to the assembled people
rather than restricting it to the rulers and leaders. The gathered audience is
addressed corporately through the use of the second person singular and
they, as the people, are the ones commanded to appoint judges and officers.
This, argues Vogt, ‘stands in remarkable contrast to ANE conceptions of
735
McConville and Millar, Time and Place in Deuteronomy, p. 107.
736
McConville and Millar, Time and Place in Deuteronomy, p. 108.
737
J. G. McConville, Law and Theology in Deuteronomy, JSOTSup 33 (JSOT Press: Sheffield,
1984), p. 32.
738
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 231.
739
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 231.
203
political power, in which the monarch wielded tremendous power.’
740
The
responsibility for appointing others to positions of authority is not given to
the king, but rather is delegated to the people. As well as this, the king’s
power is restricted and limited in terms of the expectations of his duty and
role, especially when examined in comparison with royal expectations from
surrounding nations.
Deut 12 and centralisation
If Deuteronomy is promoting a vision that is about democratisation and not
the restriction and centralisation of power, one of the most significant texts
to examine is the altar-law in Deut 12. It seems apparent from a first reading
that the focus of the text is destruction of places of idol worship and
establishment of the one focal point for worship of Yahweh. But this
traditional interpretation has also been challenged, and when considered in
relation to other passages in Deuteronomy and beyond, looks increasingly
questionable.
The contrast presented in this chapter, as Craigie has argued, is between the
places of worship of the Canaanites, which ‘the Israelites were to avoid’, and
the place that God would choose.
741
The stress on destroying these places is
shown through the emphasis of the first two words in v.12 and
the categorical ‘all’ that follows . Similarly to Craigie, Woods
also argues that the focus in chapter 12 is on Yahweh’s choice of location
rather than centralisation,
742
as does Niehaus who states that the ‘real thrust
of the chapter is not so much to centralize worship as it is to eliminate
idolatry and guard against syncretism.’
743
The contrast, therefore, is between
the place that God has forbidden and the place that God will choose
744
and,
as Niehaus argues, the emphasis on choice of place means that this place
740
Vogt, Deuteronomic Theology and the Significance of the Torah, p. 68.
741
Craigie, Deuteronomy, p. 217.
742
Woods, Deuteronomy, pp. 193-94.
743
J. J. Niehaus, ‘The Central Sanctuary: Where and When?’ TynBul 43/1 1992. p. 14.
744
Vogt, Deuteronomic Theology and the Significance of the Torah, p. 4.
204
could be transient
745
rather than being a veiled reference about Jerusalem.
McConville also argues for the importance of the instruction being about
God’s choice of place. He connects this to significant deuteronomic themes of
blessing and the land as God’s gift to his people, arguing that this makes the
idea of God’s choice much more central to deuteronomic theology than
simply seeing it as a demand for a sole sanctuary.
746
The idea that Deut 12 is
an oblique reference to Jerusalem is further undermined by Deut 27. In this
chapter, Moses commands sacrifices to be offered on Mount Ebal, which
conflicts with the idea that Deut 12 is arguing for centralisation and a sole
sanctuary for sacrifice.
747
Further, as McConville has argued, Mount Ebal is
almost certainly not intended to be seen as the one, main place of worship.
748
A slightly different perspective is put forward by Pitkänen who argues that
vv.10-11 show that the instructions about the altar law are an ideal that are
to be carried out only when Israel is safe in the land.
749
He supports this by
arguing that Deut 26:1-2 shows that the Israelites are to bring their offering to
the chosen place only once they have taken possession of the land and settled
in it.
750
He also adds that this is further supported by Exod 34:23-24,
751
and
that Deut 7:22, as well as Exod 23:29-30 both demonstrate that a length of
time will pass before Israel are able to defeat their enemies in the promised
land.
752
He argues that this all means that there is permission, additionally
supported by Deut 16:21-22, for local altars to be used in the interim between
beginning and achieving conquest, so long as they do not put up a symbol of
another god beside them.
753
There is clearly textual evidence to support his
argument that the central location would only become operative once the
745
Niehaus, ‘The Central Sanctuary’, p. 7.
746
McConville, Law and Theology in Deuteronomy, p. 32.
747
G. J. Wenham, ‘Deuteronomy and the Central Sanctuary’ TynBul 22 (1971) p. 115.
748
McConville, Law and Theology in Deuteronomy, p. 29.
749
P M A Pitkänen, Central Sanctuary and the Centralization of Worship in Ancient Israel:
From the Settlement to the Building of Solomon’s Temple (Georgias Dissertations Near
Eastern Studies 5; Piscataway, NJ: Georgias, 2003) p. 100.
750
Pitkänen, Central Sanctuary and the Centralization of Worship in Ancient Israel, p. 99.
751
Pitkänen, Central Sanctuary and the Centralization of Worship in Ancient Israel, p. 100.
752
Pitkänen, Central Sanctuary and the Centralization of Worship in Ancient Israel, p. 101.
753
Pitkänen, Central Sanctuary and the Centralization of Worship in Ancient Israel, p. 103.
205
people were settled in the land. This argument, however, still ends up with
the idea that the focus of the chapter is, ultimately, on the central place of
worship.
What Vogt argues effectively, is that what this chapter emphasises is not a call
to one centralised place, but rather the comparison between the idol worship
of the Canaanites, which was to be destroyed, in contrast with the acceptable
way of worshipping God. What Deut 12 sets out is that the right way of
worshipping God is ‘only when it is carried out in accordance with his
instructions and at the place of his choosing.’
754
This is about establishing and
ensuring God’s sovereignty as he sets out the way in which he is to be
worshipped, in contrast with the false worship of the nations that surrounded
them.
755
Profane slaughter
This process of radical democratisation can be further observed in Deut 12
where the instructions for sacrificing meat away from the central sanctuary
are significantly changed. The restriction of sacrifice to one location would
make it impractical for those from further away to travel regularly in order to
sacrifice meat and consume it.
756
As the sacrifice of animals was restricted to
one location, legislation is introduced to permit non-religious sacrifice of meat
in order to avoid limiting people to a primarily vegetarian diet, with only wild
game permitted.
757
This permission is ‘radically new’,
758
and, everyone within
the community would have been able to participate, including those who may
have been otherwise restricted, for example due to temporary
uncleanness.
759
The practical implications of this are then considered, and
changes are made to the way in which meat can be eaten outside of bringing
offerings to the one place that God will choose. This change does not,
754
Vogt, Deuteronomic Theology and the Significance of the Torah, p. 176
755
Vogt, Deuteronomic Theology and the Significance of the Torah, p. 203.
756
Woods, Deuteronomy, p. 191.
757
Block, Deuteronomy, p. 316.
758
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 226.
759
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 226.
206
however, mean a descent into anarchy, with permission to do anything,
anywhere.
What is presented here could be seen as simply a pragmatic solution to
having one place to sacrifice animals, as Cairns sees it, permission for people
who live further away to eat meat, so long as the blood of the animal is
poured out on the ground.
760
Doubtless there is pragmatism within this
concession, but if that is the only consideration, then the presence of the
instruction regarding the blood would appear as an unnecessary addition,
introducing a factor into the instructions that contain an element of sacrificial
ideology.
The possible presence of sacrificial overtones is further invoked through the
use of the verb in these verses. Lundbom argues that although the
word usually indicates a sacrificial slaughter, it is used in vv.15, 21 to
indicate non-sacrificial slaughter, and that the term has been ‘divested of its
sacral meaning’.
761
It is difficult to know, however, on what grounds
Lundbom is able to decide that the use of the word here does not carry any of
its normal sacrificial meaning. He argues that two other passages, 1 Sam
28:24 and 1 Kgs 19:21, support his point of view that the term can be used in
a non-sacrificial way.
762
Examining the language of these further two
passages, however, throws doubt on the fact that these can be used to
support his argument of non-sacrificial slaughter. In 1 Sam 28:24, the witch
kills and cooks a . This word occurs 35 times in the Old Testament and, if
Lundbom is correct that this supports a non-sacrificial understanding of ,
then this would be the only to die in the Old Testament as a non-sacrifice.
Other than the 9 occasions where the term is used to describe a literal calf or
is used as a metaphor / simile,
763
every other occasion is directly related to
760
Cairns, Deuteronomy, pp. 129-31.
761
Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 435.
762
Lundbom, Deuteronomy, p. 435.
763
Isa 11:6, 27:10; Jer 31:18; 46:21; Ezek 1:7; Amos 6:4; Mal 3:20; Ps 29:6, 68:31.
207
either sacrifice or idol worship.
764
Given this connection to sacrifice and idol
worship, it seems all the more unlikely that the use in 1 Sam 28:24 is the only
anomalous non-sacrificial killing of a calf, but rather the word’s connection to
idol worship could even be seen to further underline Saul’s descent into
apostasy.
Vogt argues effectively that the ‘word is used consistently throughout the
Old Testament in connection with sacrifice. Of the 134 times the word
appears, all but 8 are indisputably related to sacrifice and, therefore, have
sacral connotations.’
765
In Deuteronomy the word is used 12 times, and of
the other 10
766
each occasion is directly related to sacrifices, which would
mean that 12:15, 21 would be the only use in Deuteronomy not associated
with religious sacrifice. Vogt also adds that the word could have been
used instead if the desire was to show clearly that this was deemed to be
secular slaughter, as this is what the term always indicates,
767
and this word is
present elsewhere in the book. Vogt goes on to argue that this instruction is
not profane at all. He points to the instruction regarding the pouring out of
the blood on the ground, which has a clear religious association.
It is hard to conceive of secularization in the context of the blood
prohibition that is grounded on the uniquely Israelite religious
association of blood and life, particularly since the author(s) of
Deuteronomy could easily have purged any elements of earlier
theology that did not conform to their thinking, as has been argued in
the case elsewhere in Deuteronomy.
768
He argues instead that holiness was not being restricted to some single,
central sanctuary but was, instead, being extended into the whole of the land
itself.
769
Rather than being seen as something profane this, he argues, is
demonstrating religious significance and loyalty to Yahweh, showing that all
764
‘Calf’ image used as an idol: Exod 32:4, 8, 19, 20, 24, 35; Deut 9:16, 21; Ps 106:19; Neh
9:18; 1 Kgs 12:28, 32; 2 Kgs 10:29; 17:16; 2 Chr 11:15, 13:8; Hos 8:5, 6, 13:2. ‘Calf’ used as a
sacrifice or offering: Lev 9:2, 3, 8; Jer 34:18, 19; Mic 6:6.
765
Vogt, Deuteronomic Theology and the Significance of the Torah, p. 181.
766
Deut 15:21; 16:2, 4, 5, 6; 17:1; 18:3; 27:7; 32:17; 33:19.
767
Vogt, Deuteronomic Theology and the Significance of the Torah, p. 183.
768
Vogt, Deuteronomic Theology and the Significance of the Torah, p. 191.
769
Vogt, Deuteronomic Theology and the Significance of the Torah, p. 185.
208
‘of the actions of the people of Israel in the land have covenantal and
religious significance.’
770
This idea of the sacred being spread out into the
rest of life rather than being preserved at the centre is something that Lohfink
also argued for in an earlier text.
Diese Wirklichkeit ist für das Deuteronomium das eigentliche Sacrum.
Vom bisherigen, gewissermaẞen archaisch-kultishen Verständnis des
Sacrum her gesehen mag das, was das Deuteronomium entwickelt,
wie eine Auflösung des Sakralen erscheinen. Für das Deutonomium
selbst ist es die Überführung der gesamten Welt-Wirklichkeit der
Gesellchaft >Israel< ins Sakrale hinein.
771
As Lohfink argues elsewhere, the idea of ‘profane slaughter’ is one that is
based on a pre-deuteronomic concepts of holiness, whereas for Deuteronomy
nothing is left any longer as profane. Instead, what occurs is a broadening out
of the sphere of the sacred.
772
If holiness is something that is being
transferred onto the land as a whole, and by association the people, then this
is the opposite from a centralised view where holiness and religiosity are
located in only one place, which is also the place of the priesthood who carry
out the sacrifices. Instead this shows the way in which ordinary citizens are
able to conduct their lives themselves in a way that demonstrates their
commitment to God and his commandments.
Even at this point of surprising innovation, Deuteronomy still maintains a
sense of continuity with what has gone before. This is not a rejection of what
has gone before but an integration with and adaptation of pre-existing laws
to create something new and surprising. Neither is this simply innovation for
the sake of it, or driven purely by pragmatism without consideration for the
wider theological implications. The roots for this new instruction have their
basis within a pre-existing law, that of hunting wild animals. V.22 shows that
this instruction is not to be extended to include domestic animals as well.
But, as Vogt has argued, there is also adaptation and extension of the pre-
existing sacrificial laws and instructions. Innovation, therefore, can be seen to
770
Vogt, Deuteronomic Theology and the Significance of the Torah, p. 203.
771
Lohfink, ‘Opfer und Säkularisierung im Deuteronomium,’ p. 35.
772
Lohfink, ‘Opfer und Säkularisierung im Deuteronomium,’ p. 36.
209
contain both continuity and adaptation within itself and so, ultimately what
can be observed here is the drawing together of continuity, adaptation and
innovation. At this point in Deuteronomy, innovation is used to continue this
process of radical democratisation as ordinary people gain the permission and
responsibility to cook and eat meat away from the usual place of sacrifice,
pouring out the blood in keeping with the instructions given to the priest, and
demonstrating their commitment to God.
Conclusion to Radical Democratisation
The work arising from the liturgical hermeneutic and characteristics drew
attention to certain aspects of Deut 26 which focused on the importance of
attention given to the individual worshipper and the community identity, as
opposed to the role of the priest, the nature of sacrifice and the detail of the
offering. This led onto the possibility of Deuteronomy promoting an agenda
of radical democratisation. Clearly this concept stands in opposition to the
long-held ideas of centralisation, secularisation and demythologisation. This
section has explored the work of Vogt, alongside key chapters in
Deuteronomy, to see how far the concept of radical democratisation can be
supported. It is clear that there is significant support, that particularly comes
to light through the way in which Deuteronomy adapts texts and practices
from other contexts. For example, the unusual restrictions placed on the king
and other political leaders in the community which stand in direct contrast as
compared to those from other Ancient Near Eastern communities. The
argument was also raised that the focus in Deut 12 is not on the centralised
location as such, but rather on the priority of God to choose the place of
worship and the insistence that Canaanite worship practices and locations are
avoided. This idea is continued into the analysis on the idea of ‘profane
slaughter’ in Deut 12, which has been shown to be closer to sacrificial practice
and language than is sometimes understood.
This work then leads back to Deut 26, lending support that what has been
raised through this reading in this chapter is not isolated, but is also found
210
elsewhere throughout the book. Other particular points in Deut 26 are also
important for this reading, for example, the point about representation raised
in the textual notes on v.5, where the farmer represents those who will come
after him. By the end of the chapter, the focus is on the whole people of God
becoming the treasured people who keep his commandments. This has
strong similarities with the covenant renewal ceremony (Deut 29:10-15)
where the entire community, including women, young children and resident
aliens, stand equally as one before God, recommitting themselves to keeping
God’s commandments. Similarly, this has a representative element to it as
there is reference made to those who will commit themselves to this in the
future.
Conclusion
This chapter, as with the previous one, has taken a specific chapter of
Deuteronomy that has long been understood as demonstrating liturgical
characteristics, in order to examine it in detail according to the liturgical
hermeneutic as set out in Chapter One. It was clear that although the
concept of liturgy and the description of ‘liturgical’ is widely used by scholars
in analysing this chapter, the reason supporting this analysis is lacking. The
use of the liturgical hermeneutic, arising out of liturgical theory, gives a much
clearer understanding of the use of this word. It was also very apparent that
when analysed through this hermeneutic, the presence of liturgical
characteristics was clear.
This liturgical reading also revealed the radical democratisation that is at work
both in this chapter and in the wider text. This concept was supported from
work stemming from a number of significant places in the wider text,
particularly chapter 12: an important choice given the direct relationship
between chapters 12 and 26 in the overall structure of the book and the way
in which liturgy is important in both of them. This reading revealed the way in
211
which the text is seeking to flatten out depictions of hierarchy and reduce the
power of authority figures, as for example seen in the depiction of the role
and rights of the king. It is important to note, however, that even through
this process, the text is not seeking to disregard the importance of the need
for positions of authority and order in society.
The next, and final, chapter will draw together the key features from this
chapter together with the previous chapters, in order to expand and develop
the paradigm that will respond to the initial question.
212
Chapter Five: Continuity,
adaptation and innovation as a
liturgical paradigm for Anglican
mission
Introduction to Chapter Five
The work in Chapter One focused on the remarkably widely-received Church
of England report, Mission-shaped Church,
773
and how it strived to encourage
members of the Church to adapt practices to changing contexts. It was
pointed out that despite its significant impact on the Anglican Church, the
report had not been received without criticism,
774
with concerns have been
raised over its theological methodology. Also, the relatively speedy response
from the Church of England nationally to promote and encourage fresh
expressions of church has left some in parish based ministry feeling
disenfranchised.
775
It was equally clear however, that despite being the most
prominent and lengthiest critique of Mission-shaped Church, the book For the
Parish was also not without criticism. It portrays an idealised image of parish
life and ministry, and does not sufficiently acknowledge the degree of societal
change in the country.
776
Up to this point, the primary methodological approach in these on-going
discussions has been ecclesiological.
777
What this has frequently meant in
practice is that those supporting fresh expressions of church have sought a
reductionist ecclesiology. The section exploring ‘inculturation’ in Chapter One
773
Church of England Mission and Public Affairs Council, Mission-shaped Church.
774
See especially Hull, Mission-Shaped Church; Davison & Milbank, For the Parish.
775
Gittoes, Green & Heard, Generous Ecclesiology, p. 1.
776
Goodhew, Roberts & Volland, Fresh!, pp. 43-44.
777
Croft, ‘Fresh Expressions in a Mixed Economy Church’, p. 14.
213
argued that this approach actually risks diminishing opportunities for
innovation in a new context. This is because it is based on a ‘translation’
approach, where pre-existing concepts and ideas are transferred from one
context to another and dressed in different language, rather than setting out
parameters to enable innovation of something truly new in the new context.
As well as the use of ecclesiological methodology, the first chapter also set
out how the issues of liturgy and worship have been intentionally side-lined in
the practical advice given to those seeking to develop something new.
778
In
fact, worship is often reduced to descriptions of ‘style’ in the literature that
supports fresh expressions of church, rather than any deeper recognition of
the primary value of worship as an integral aspect of mission and discipleship.
Equally important, given this study’s intentional focus on fresh expressions of
church in an Anglican context, the lack of focus on worship and liturgy in the
literature has meant that the fundamental importance of liturgy for Anglican
self-understanding has not been acknowledged or discussed. This point led to
the historical review that demonstrated the significance of liturgy to Anglican
identity whilst at the same time revealing how liturgy has continually changed
and adapted over time. This section also examined the ways in which, for
example, rural and urban concerns about worship that were raised in several
Church of England reports throughout the 20th century, had not been brought
effectively into dialogue with the developments of fresh expressions of
church. An important result of this survey was in providing a response to the
assumptions within For the Parish that presented Anglican liturgy as a
constant, unchanging acultural phenomenon.
779
A liturgical methodology
The liturgical hermeneutic, as set out in Chapter One, was taken to the text of
Deuteronomy to provide a clear definition for the description for the term
‘liturgical’, in contrast to previous uses of the term in wider scholarship.
778
Archbishop’s Council, The Fresh Expressions Initiative, p. 2.
779
Avis, The Identity of Anglicanism, p. 160.
214
Having used this methodology to demonstrate that the text is liturgical, these
chapters then went on to look further for the liturgical characteristics of
continuity, adaptation and innovation. What was revealed through this work
will now be summarised here to provide a liturgical paradigm that will begin
to form a response to the original question.
Continuity
As was demonstrated throughout this study, Deuteronomy makes repeated
links with the preceding narrative, through recounting significant themes,
narrative incidents and theological concepts. Remembering in Deuteronomy,
though, is not just an act of recalling information, but an active engagement
with both the story and the law that is accompanied by a decision to commit
to it and pass it on to the next generation. Moses addresses the people as if
they had direct experience of events at which they had not actually been
present, for example Deut 4:9-13 and 11:2-7. The rhetorical impact of this
device brings the story of the nation into the present,
780
and actualises the
faith for the current generation by drawing together past, present and future
into one moment.
781
As was argued, if the later generation about to cross
into the Promised Land were not addressed ‘as if’ they were a previous
generation, then the text may well not have the power to draw subsequent
generations back to the moment of decision that faces those about to enter
the land. These significant foundational stories are repeated not only to
encourage but also to warn against and to curb inappropriate practices.
Deuteronomy makes frequent mention of slavery in Egypt. This is used to
influence the people’s behaviour, particularly in providing care for the
vulnerable and the marginalised in society.
782
This can be observed, for
example, in Deut 26 where the placing of instructions to care for the poor
directly after the recitation of the people’s history appears deliberate. The
third-year tithe then gives a practical and tangible way of living out their
780
Ellman, Memory and Covenant, p. 65.
781
von Rad, ‘The Form-Critical Problem of the Hexateuch’, p. 29.
782
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 384.
215
identity as the people of God and as those who have heard and committed to
keeping the commandments.
The text stresses the importance not just of continually communicating and
repeating the fundamentals of the faith, but ensuring that there are
intentional opportunities provided for people to learn, commit to and pass it
on to others. This theme is highly significant for those involved in fresh
expressions of church, as part of their raison d’être has been seeking new
ways to share faith and pass it on to the next generation. Deuteronomy sets
out the importance of providing means for people to learn about faith, for
example through celebrating festivals, participation in renewing the covenant,
and through space to ask questions. Learning is closely linked to
remembering the laws and committing to live according to them, not
dissimilar to the promises affirmed by Anglicans in confirmation. The final
step in the process is then passing this on to the next generation, something
of great importance for Deuteronomy.
783
In some way, the next generation is
always in view throughout Deuteronomy given how it plays with a liturgical
collapse of time in the narrative setting. This pattern encourages those
involved in fresh expressions of church to examine how they provide
intentional opportunities for people to learn, remember, commit to and pass
on the faith to the next generation.
Deuteronomy uses innovation and rhetorical technique to present to Israel a
vigorous call to re-engage with their national identity. Whether read as
instilling an identity prior to conquest, or re-energising flagging morale after
the exile, Deuteronomy’s rhetorical innovation calls each new generation of
the people of God to the point of decision.
784
What is crucial from the
perspective of Deuteronomy is that national identity is utterly interwoven
783
See Firth, ’Passing on the Faith in Deuteronomy’, pp. 157-176.
784
Nelson, Deuteronomy, p. 6; Vogt, Deuteronomic Theology and the Significance of the
Torah, pp. 1, 6-14.
216
with care for the vulnerable and marginalised, and importantly includes the
foreigner in the midst as well.
Adaptation
In Deuteronomy the whole of life is drawn into the orbit of worship. Faith
was not to be either cerebral or occasional, but rather the foundation of all
aspects of life.
785
The laws and commandments Moses teaches the people,
that he expects them to remember and commit to, cover many routine
aspects of life, such as building houses, farming the land, and regulations
surrounding clothing. What is important is that, as Reeder describes it, ‘the
covenant is preserved by being woven into the daily life of the family, firmly
placing Israel’s relationship with God at the very centre of social existence.’
786
The child’s question in Deut 6 is significant to the overall chapter, emphasising
as it does listening to the commandments and learning them. The child’s
question here adapts the Exodus text and changes a question that is centred
around ritual practices to one focused on learning the story of God’s
deliverance of his people from slavery and the subsequent giving of law to the
people. There is a strong emphasis on encouraging the next generation to
participate in the communal identity of the past, not simply to preserve it but
to be shaped by it so that life in the future will bring blessing. It is also clear
that the children are not simply told about a list of rules, but they are
engaged by the story that lies behind them. This is particularly important as it
demonstrates two vital things, first that the tools of the past should not be
neglected simply because they are old, but also second that there is a model
for adapting past practices to suit changing contexts. The importance of
being able to ask question and to engage in the story of salvation rather than
simply recite information is particularly vital in responding to a point raised in
Chapter One. As a counter to an assertion from Davison and Milbank, it was
argued that simply attending worship and reciting liturgy, even regularly, may
not be sufficient for developing individual’s understanding of the theology
785
Biddle, Deuteronomy, p. 124.
786
Reeder, The Enemy in the Household, p. 20.
217
contained within the words they were saying. What the textual study from
Deuteronomy shows is that as well as simple recitation, other means such as
questioning, discussing and participating in the action of the story are all
significant ways of enabling participation and understanding.
A further point of adaptation was the shift in focus from the leadership role of
the priests, Levites and elders, as seen in the wider Pentateuch, to the whole
community in Deuteronomy. It is particularly important to note that this
gathered community specifically includes women, children and resident
aliens. Whilst there is a clear flattening of the hierarchical structure in society
(and this will be focused on in more detail in the following section exploring
radical democratisation within the wider section on innovation), this is not
setting out a model with a lack of leadership and authority. Rather, the roles
of leadership are re-defined, albeit in a more limited way, whilst the whole
community receives both the same invitation and takes on the same
responsibility that was previously just reserved for the leaders. In terms of
fresh expressions of church in an Anglican context, this point raises particular
and important questions around issues of defining roles of leadership clearly
and, significantly, stressing the importance of invitation and responsibility for
the whole community.
Although there is dependence on the wider treaty tradition, the text clearly
shows that the pattern has been adapted and extended to suit its theological
purposes. Deuteronomy makes use of something that is culturally
contemporary in order to express its theology but does not in any way imply
that ANE treaty documents or concepts were to be considered sacred or even
by themselves particularly significant.
Innovation
The offering of the first fruit of the harvest would have been a ‘new religious
institution in Israel’ that only makes sense for the people once they are
settled in the land and have produce from it to offer.
787
As was noted in
787
Craigie, Deuteronomy, p. 320.
218
Chapter Four, it is not that ‘First Fruits’ as recorded in Deuteronomy
innovates in comparison with the wider Pentateuch, but rather does so in
terms of a new celebration appropriate for the new context of settling in the
land. This brings out an important argument to address the point raised in
the first chapter that both For the Parish and Mission-shaped Church did
consider points raised by the earlier national church reports ‘Faith in the
Countryside’
788
and ‘Faith in the City’.
789
What Deuteronomy shows is the
potential for innovation in terms of festivals and community celebrations that
break out of the predominantly agrarian mind-set of the Church of England,
as well as opportunities to respond particularly to new context and
immediate situations that arise in both the city and the countryside.
The celebration of ‘First Fruits’ is marked in a tangible way through bringing
the produce of the land and speaking aloud the prayers that are set out. The
food can be touched and smelt, the words are spoken aloud, and all of it is
located within a wider context of joyful communal celebrations which
involved eating, drinking and celebrating together. The individual has also
had to travel to the place God has chosen to present the offering. All of this
acts to physicalise the memory of God’s promises, helping to make them real
and present to the individual and the wider community. The Church of
England has had an often largely cerebral focus for worship: the focus in
services is predominantly on singing, speaking and listening to words. Other
than standing and sitting, physical responses are confined to receiving a small
piece of bread or wafer and a sip of wine, and possibly smelling incense or
seeing candles and other decoration in some Anglican traditions. The vision
set out in Deut 26 is much more expansive, with harvesting and transporting
the food, standing and speaking out the words of faith individually rather than
as part of the wider congregation, and then feasting and celebrating. This is a
significant encouragement to those involved in fresh expressions of church to
think about how faith and worship can be encountered in a more physical,
788
‘Faith in the Countryside’ Report of the Archbishop’s Commission on Rural Areas.
789
Church of England Archbishop’s Commission on Urban Priority Areas Faith in the City.
219
immediate and direct way. The inclusion of feasting and celebrating together
could also be a very positive and welcome addition.
The strong connection between the work that the farmer does and its
immediate relationship to worship, forming as it does the literal worship
offering, also creates a strong link between the realm of daily work and the
realm of worship. The world of work and employment can be an area that is
overlooked or neglected in Anglican worship, be it contemporary or
traditional. This can add to the potential disconnect between people’s
experiences of their daily lives during the week and worship at church
whereas Deuteronomy encourages an integration of all aspects of life. As
noted above, the later prophetic critique of the community often arose when
a separation occurred between worship and the rest of life.
The textual connection between work and worship is seen not only through
the example of the farmer bringing his offering but through the semantic
connection between the word for ‘work’ and the word for ‘worship’. When
appearing without ‘an object, ‘āḇaḏ usually means “to work.”’
790
Similarly
when occuring with ‘inanimate objects, ‘āḇaḏ means to “work on, develop,
cultivate,” and its object is usually ‘aḏāmâ.’
791
At the same time, the figure
‘āḇaḏ ‘aḇōdâ” is frequently used when referring to particular religious
acts, for example ‘the presentation of an offering (Josh. 22:27), the
adherence to certain customs (Ex. 13:5, the Passover celebration), or
the various activities at the tent of meeting (e.g., Nu. 3:8; 4:23,27; 7:5;
8:22).
792
Whilst these examples arise from Joshua and the wider Pentateuch, it is
particularly interesting to note that in Deuteronomy, and carried through into
the wider Deuteronomistic History, the term is used differently. It occurs with
Yahweh as its object in a way that is not limited by solely cultic settings, but
rather describes ‘a religious and ethical disposition encompassing a person’s
790
Ringgren, āḇaḏ, p. 381.
791
Ringgren, āḇaḏ, p. 382.
792
Ringgren, āḇaḏ, p. 383.
220
entire life, one coming to expression especially in the obedient keeping of the
commandments.’
793
This semantic connection between the two words then
in Deuteronomy further emphasises the importance of a lived connection
between worship and the rest of life.
Speaking out
In Deut 26, the individual Israelite speaks aloud the history of the people and
through this takes on the identity of this story; the words focus outwards
from their own particular concerns to prayers for the people as a whole. This
shows the opportunity for the individual to voice their faith, regularly if not
frequently. It must however be stressed, that this is not about individualism
as such, given that the words are about identifying with both the past
deliverance and future needs of the wider community. Through participating
in the liturgical act described here, the person praying acknowledges that
they are ‘a direct recipient of the act of salvation which was the gift of the
promised land.’
794
The clear encouragement here for fresh expressions of
church is to think about ways of enabling individuals both to share in the
wider communal story and to give voice to their faith publicly.
Radical Democratisation
In Deuteronomy the role of the king is particularly limited as compared with
practices in the wider ANE. Restrictions are placed on the king, and the
power and authority is given to the assembled people, not just the king,
leaders, elders or priests. Deuteronomy also lacks language that could be
seen as promoting any difference between the people. Instead, they are
called ‘“brothers”; tribal distinctions are played down; and it is a single and
unified nation that is brought into the land.’
795
As was noted, McConville
argues that the lack of hierarchy is continued through the lack of a primary
793
Ringgren, āḇaḏ, p. 386.
794
von Rad, Deuteronomy, p. 159.
795
McConville, Law and Theology in Deuteronomy, p. 32.
221
representative: neither a priest nor king who leads the worship and sacrifices
in Deut 12 but all the people, and there is no sense of mediation.
796
Another significant part of this process of radical democratisation occurs
when the wider community is given permission to kill, cook and eat meat in
their local vicinity in awareness of the fact that once settled in the land, the
main place of sacrifice could be a long way from some of the towns and
villages. They were, however, required to pour out the blood on the ground
and not eat it, in keeping with the instructions given to the priest, and
demonstrating their commitment to God. As was demonstrated though,
these ‘new’ instructions for ‘profane slaughter’ still find their roots within pre-
existing laws, so even at this point of significant innovation there is still a
connection back to existing practices.
The point about flattening out of societal structures has been discussed above
in terms of how this may relate to fresh expressions of church. What this
section as a whole provides, is the encouragement to release, encourage and
enable. ‘Holiness’ was no longer to be bound at the one site, but was spread
throughout the land, empowering each member of the community and
permitting ‘profane slaughter’. As was noted, this is not anyone doing
anything, anywhere, and it is crucial to remember that this does not represent
an end to the priesthood and the monarchy. Deuteronomy still depicts a
society with leaders and authority figures, but it is their function and
relationship to the wider community that is different. The text presents a
picture of the community as a whole taking on the responsibilities to keep
God’s commandments, to continue sharing the story of rescue and
redemption from slavery with the next generation, and to worship God in the
ways that he has instructed. Further to this is also, as was shown above
through the permission to eat meat locally, the approval to do some things at
a local level that were once the preserve of the central structure.
796
McConville, Deuteronomy, p. 231.
222
In the light of this, it is interesting to begin to think tentatively how radical
democratisation may relate to the Church of England and to the role of fresh
expressions of church within it. As was stated above, it is important to
remember in this discussion that Deuteronomy does not present a picture of
a community without leadership, but rather one that places particular limits
around certain roles and encourages a more egalitarian view of the
community as a whole. One way that this could be seen to relate to current
practices in the Church of England is the presence of synodical governance
means that at every level of the church. This means that there is the
mechanism for collaboration and shared decision-making, from each local
PCC up to the national church’s General Synod. There is also the potential for
any member of the congregation to go forward to be part of both Diocesan
and General Synods, as well as numerous other working groups and
committees. This means that decision making is not the preserve of the
clergy and, whilst it is not congregational in the sense that every individual is
directly part of the process, every individual could be involved and could
contribute to national church decisions.
The question that fresh expressions of church raises, in terms of the themes
of radical democratisation, are particularly to do with the extent to which
authority and permission flows from the centre to the edges. This relates to
the permission in Deuteronomy to sacrifice some animals in local areas rather
than being restricted to the centre. Where this appears in Deuteronomy, the
new permissions are an expansion of the existing rules, and although this was
an innovative application of those rules it was not completely without any
reference to anything that had gone before. It is, therefore, important to
underline that this is not about arguing for the right of anyone to do anything,
anywhere. This does not mean, then stepping outside of episcopal oversight,
223
but using existing rules to create new ways of working, such as have been
seen through things like Bishop’s Mission Orders.
797
One important question that relates to this area is that of sacramental
presidency, especially in terms of growing numbers of fresh expressions of
church which are lay led. It could be argued that lay presidency may be seen
in the same light as the localised slaughter of animals in Deuteronomy, and
that it could therefore become an expansion of existing Anglican theology. In
terms of the perceived spread of ‘holiness’ from the centre to the edges,
there is a development of loosening centralised control and enabling localised
discernment. But equally it would not be right to argue that the changes
observed in Deuteronomy in any way watered down the understanding of
important concepts such as priesthood or holiness through the changes that
were brought about. This is not about diminishing but rather redefining
terms and enabling a greater sharing in responsibility. This may then provide
some encouragement, as well as comfort, that exploring ways in which the
ritual of worship is ‘decentralised’ does not automatically have to mean a
lesser understanding of priesthood, sacrality or liturgy.
Forming a response to the original question
The work of this study has argued that a liturgical paradigm of continuity,
adaptation and innovation is more reflective of both Anglican self-
understanding and the realities of liturgical development over time. The
liturgical hermeneutic developed from Gittoes’ work as described in Chapter
One, was used as an approach to Deuteronomy, drawing out significant
textual points which in turn can now be used in response to the question of
continuity, adaptation and innovation in fresh expressions of church in an
Anglican context.
797
For further information about Bishop’s Mission Orders see
www.churchofengland.org/clergy-office-
holders/pastoralandclosedchurches/pastoral/bmos.aspx
224
The textual study has shown repeatedly that all three points of this liturgical
paradigm are important, and it is when one point is privileged over the others
that creates a distortion. For example, Davison and Milbank are right to
challenge the Mission-shaped Church report’s lack of theological depth,
especially considering the way it has been used to support the level and
speed of change that has happened in response to the report’s publication.
They are also right to challenge the lack of connection with Anglican tradition
and the missional potential of the parish system. By failing to address,
however, any of the missional concerns about changes in society and the lack
of connection between church culture and contemporary culture, even to the
point of regarding this as a positive thing, they present a case for continuity of
practice that is out of step with the realities of continual liturgical
development. Effectively, their focus on continuity at the cost of innovation
means that they have failed to respond to significant parts of the argument
that is presented in Mission-shaped Church and related literature in terms of
culture change and the effect that this has always had on church practice.
This presents an important challenge to the theological position of For the
Parish, which promotes a ‘removed’ approach to culture, instead preferring
an ‘acultural’, idealised understanding of Church culture that was to be
distinct from that of the surrounding nations. Deuteronomy is very clear that
there is to be no copying of foreign worship practices and underlines this
repeatedly, but it also shows that borrowing, and then adapting, from cultural
forms and practices in order to promote and communicate its theological
focus does not risk religious compromise. It has to be remembered however,
that the focus of Deuteronomy is communicating theology and persuading
the people to commit to the law and live by it. There is not a push for
‘relevance’ in order to communicate to those outside the current community,
in the same way as is felt by those currently involved and exploring fresh
expressions of church. It is primarily a document for those inside the
community of faith and not those outside. At the same time, however, it
does have to be remembered that the text is clear that part of the people’s
225
‘mission’ to the other nations consists of being those who are to live
according to God’s law, so that the other nations will reflect on the nature of
God through what they observe. Continuity alone is not reflective of the
history of Anglican liturgy, and attempting to present an acultural model of
liturgy is equally not reflective of historical practice and adaptation.
Fundamentally, continuity alone does not equip the church to express its
Anglican identity in mission.
This is not to suggest, however, that points raised by For the Parish should be
overlooked, or that everything within Mission-shaped Church should be
accepted without analysis. Whilst clearly seeking to address the needs of
equipping the church to respond to the missional context of a changing
society, the report does so to the extent of risking any sense of continuity
with the historical Anglican church. This is an understandable response to
church infrastructure that is often seen as being overly cumbersome and slow
to change, but a focus on innovation to the extent that loses sight of any
continuity means a significant risk of losing connectedness with the wider
Anglican Church and history. This perceived detachment from both the wider
Church and the past, could be seen as the root of many of the criticisms of the
book.
The biblical paradigm represented by this study provides a response to the
challenges raised by both Mission-shaped Church and For the Parish. All the
examples seen in Deuteronomy showed elements of all three of the liturgical
characteristics, continuity, adaptation and innovation, but tended to
emphasise one more than another. For example, the history of the rescue
from slavery in Egypt was noted as a continual, repeating theme, reminding
people of their identity, but this was being expressed in ways to forge
connections with the new context of life in the promised land. Rhetorically
this was seen through continual calls to decide ‘today’ to commit to God and
to keep his laws.
226
This was also seen through the encouragement to place reminders of the law
on the gates and doorposts of their houses. In terms of adaptation, this was
seen in one way through the adaptation of the child’s question in Deut 6. No
longer was this about the story of rescue, but became adapted in order to
teach the child about the statutes and commandments of the law. This
adaptation is rooted in previous practice and is used to recite the laws of the
community. Equally, even examples of innovation which show continuity and
adaptation, such as the permission to slaughter animals away from the one
place that God will choose, finds their roots in earlier sacrificial instructions.
Both Mission-shaped Church and For the Parish show awareness of
adaptation, even though they prioritise either innovation or continuity
respectively. Adaptation can then act as a bridge between these two
positions and begins to show how this liturgical paradigm provides the means
to break the deadlock in the current and on-going discussions. The work in
Chapter One set out the historical development of Anglican liturgy up to the
present day. As was set out in the discussion, the Alternative Service Book
798
and Common Worship
799
have demonstrated continuity, adaptation and
innovation building on from the Book of Common Prayer
800
and the liturgical
work in the 60s and 70s. This is a further extension from that and from the
work demonstrated in the first chapter which articulated liturgical change and
adaptation to context. Fundamentally, this is about a means to articulate
Anglican identity in mission, particularly in response to rapid changes in
culture and society. This is to argue that liturgy has a significant contribution
to make to this important discussion. By taking note of the liturgical
paradigm, fresh expressions of church can seek to hold on to continuity,
adaptation and innovation, finding new ways to connect with changing
culture whilst at the same time continuing in the story of the people of God.
It should also be noted, that although the focus here is exploring continuity,
798
Alternative Service Book 1980: together with the Liturgical Psalter.
799
Church of England Liturgy and Ritual, Common Worship.
800
The Book of Common Prayer.
227
adaptation and innovation within fresh expressions of church, the practical
outworking of the biblical study may also provide insights for those within
traditional parish settings.
The next section will take two points and provide worked examples of
liturgical continuity, adaptation and innovation in a missional context, but
first it is worth noting another way in which this work can respond to a point
of disagreement noted in the first chapter. In Chapter One, it was pointed out
that Hull, quite rightly, critiqued Mission-shaped Church’s use of McGavran’s
‘homogeneity principle’.
801
The Mission-shaped Church report raised the very
real concern that the poorest and least well educated are at risk of being
dominated by those who are richer and better educated. As stated
previously, Hull is right to raise questions about the possibility that following
this approach could lead to segregated, interest-based groups that are then
seen as potential fresh expressions of church.
802
What he does not provide,
however, is a constructive response as well as his critique. As noted above,
responsibility that had been previously given to the leadership was now being
passed on to the community, limiting the leadership at the same time as
empowering the whole community. What this point about community
responsibility begins to provide is a step towards limiting the leadership and
empowering the whole community. Preventing potential domination by one
group means stressing that each person has the same responsibility to learn,
commit to, remember and pass on the faith. This is seeking after a way to
empower all participants within a fresh expression of Church, not simply
something that is done for the poor or marginalised, but something that
expects each person to take on responsibility. The next section will explore
two specific worked examples of how two particular points drawn from the
801
Hull, Mission-Shaped Church, p. 14.
802
For a discussion community inclusivity during the Covenant renewal, Deut 29, which
counters a view of homogeneity in the worshipping community see J. Corcoran, ‘The Alien in
Deuteronomy 29 and Today’ in ed. D. G. Firth and P. S. Johnston, Interpreting Deuteronomy:
Issues and Approaches (Nottingham: Apollos, 2012) pp. 229-239,
228
detailed textual work on Deuteronomy could begin to be applied in a
missional Anglican context.
Missional liturgical examples of the paradigm
The purpose of this thesis has always been to explore ways of providing a
means for dialogue between opposing parties in the Fresh Expressions of
Church debate in the Church of England. The aim in this section is to begin to
demonstrate how the key points raised through the textual work of Chapters
2, 3 and 4 can be applied or thought-through in a practical context, with an
awareness of the missional themes of participation and service. This work
was never intended nor designed to be a piece of practical research, given the
already not insubstantial volume of work that collects data on Fresh
Expressions of Church.
803
It was not, therefore practical in terms of time or
space in the thesis, to conduct field research, nor was it the primary aim of
this work. Rather, this piece of research is intended to explore potential
theological support and vocabulary for the work of fresh expressions of
church and to see if they can be part of the Church of England in a coherently
Anglican way. This was why a liturgical methodology was adopted rather than
an ecclesiological one. Having established and defended this view, it is
important to begin to show how this paradigm can contribute through actual
803
For example, the research that was captured in Encounters on the Edge, a series of
booklets published by the Church Army Research Unit between 1999 and 2012, with a total of
56 issues. These specifically focused on the work of church plants and fresh expressions of
church within the Anglican Church over that time. This was then followed by the production
of Snapshots – Stories From the Edge, a downloadable booklet produced three times a year
which either set out the background of a particular fresh expression of church or explored a
relevant theme within the work of Anglican fresh expressions of church. See also Church
Army's Research Unit, An analysis of fresh expressions of church and church plants begun in
the period 1992-2012 : report on strand 3b of the Church Growth Research Project. (Sheffield:
Church Army/Church of England, 2013); G. Lings, The day of small things: an analysis
of fresh expressions of church in 21 dioceses of the Church of England, (Sheffield: Church
Army, 2016).
229
missional, liturgical examples to show how continuity, adaptation and
innovation can be used to extend Anglican liturgy as a response to the
changes and developments in contemporary society.
As was set out in Chapter One, the two important points that were drawn out
of the discussion of missio Dei were participation and service. This section
will begin to explore ways in which the textual work from Chapters Two,
Three and Four could be applied in practical settings. This means applying the
particular themes from the biblical work into practical scenarios,
demonstrating how the liturgical concepts can be used in liturgical settings
which create missional opportunities in line with participation and service.
This is seeking to find ways of encouraging and enabling people to participate
in the people of God, in other words to become integrated as part of a
worshipping community, and as part of this belonging to serve as
participation in God’s mission.
An important reflection on worship and mission, particularly in terms of
serving the poor, vulnerable and marginalised arises from Cottrell’s reflection
on the vital link between mission and Anglo-Catholicism. He argues that the
importance of responding to and serving the poor and the marginalised which
has often been historically a traditionally Anglo-Catholic approach, for
example the slum priests.
804
As the key terms of participation and service
imply, mission cannot just be understood in terms of conversion, although
this is an aspect of mission as a whole, but mission has to be concerned with
‘issues of justice, peace, and the integrity of creation’.
805
The themes that
arose from Deuteronomy clearly also emphasised the importance of caring
for the poor, vulnerable and marginalised in society, and the way in which the
society was encouraged to draw this service into the midst of both their
804
S. Cottrell, ‘Letting your Actions do the Talking: Mission and the Catholic Tradition’ in ed. S.
Croft & I. Mobsby, Fresh Expressions in the Sacramental Tradition, Ancient Faith, Future
Mission (Norwich: Canterbury Press, 2009) pp. 66-71.
805
S. B. Bevans, ‘A Theology of Mission for the Church of the Twenty-First Century: Mission as
Prophetic Dialogue’ in ed. S. B. Bevans & K. Tahaafe-Williams, Contextual Theology for the
Twenty-First Century, (Eugene, Oregon: Pickwick Publications, 2011) p. 102.
230
everyday lives and their particular acts of worship. It is also seen in
Deuteronomy and in wider Old Testament texts, that God criticises the people
in the strongest of terms when they neglect issues of justice and care for the
poorest in the community.
Nygaard is right when he raises concerns that some of the ‘missional’
attempts across denominations in Europe can be described in terms of
‘mission as marketing’
806
and that the focus is on gaining ‘more customers, in
order to keep it all going.’
807
The potential for fresh expressions of church to
fall into this category and subsequent criticism is clearly present, but the
focus on participation and service, and seeking to shape liturgical worship in
order to enable and encourage this would help significantly in avoiding this.
The argument in this thesis is that adaptation, and even innovation of
liturgical forms, furthers the inherent missional identity of the church. As
Maclaren rightly argues, if the church understands ‘apostolic’ not as a called
out to be separate and superior, but called out to be equipped and sent in
mission then ‘the Church becomes inherently adaptive and flexible, shaping
its forms and activities around mission rather than convention.’
808
As was
demonstrated in Chapter One, the idea of a constant liturgical pattern
throughout time does not reflect the reality of Anglican history. A
continuation of missional adaptation, therefore, is simply continuity and
contextual adaptation that has historically always been a feature of practice.
Therefore, liturgical adaptation in order to better equip communities to
participate in missio Dei becomes even more significant.
This section will focus on two particular examples, drawing from the biblical
work undertaken on Deuteronomy, showing how this paradigm can provide a
806
B. Nygaard, ‘Strategic Reflections Coming Out of the Present Predicament for Christian
Mission’ in ed. V. Mortensen & A. O. Nielsen, Walk Humbly with the Lord: Church and Mission
Engaging Plurality (Grand Rapids, Michigan | Cambridge: Eerdmans, 2010) pp. 49-50. Italics
original.
807
Nygaard, ‘Strategic Reflections Coming Out of the Present Predicament for Christian
Mission’, pp. 49-50.
808
Maclaren, ‘One, Holy, Catholic and Fresh?’, p. 24.
231
liturgical response for fresh expressions of church in a missional, Anglican
context. There are numerous ways in which Anglican liturgy demonstrates
continuity, and therefore these two examples will focus on adaptation in the
first example and innovation in the second. The first example will pick up on
the points raised about the importance of integrating children and passing on
the faith to the next generation, specifically exploring the adaptation of the
child’s question in Deut 6 from the Exodus context. The second example will
explore the innovation of the celebration of first fruits, examining the ways
this could influence a liturgical celebration of harvest, in an urban, missional
setting.
Before focusing on these two worked examples, the following table sets out
some ways in which wider points from the textual work may begin to be
applied to current church contexts.
Applications for local church contexts of the findings from the
textual work
Textual point
Potential area for church application
The importance of God’s
deliverance of his people from
slavery in Egypt was drawn into
everyday practices.
Prayers and liturgies that focus on
God’s deliverance and provision for
individuals, families and groups to use
at different times of their everyday
lives. For example, before going to
work or school; when travelling;
before sharing a meal; before going
to bed; moving house; starting a new
job; going on holiday.
Acknowledging and making provision
for important points of regular life
into corporate worship in an
intentional way, for example, start of
new school year; retirement; exams;
new job; redundancy.
Symbols, objects or short Scripture
passages that can be placed around
the house as a reminder of God’s
deliverance.
232
Passing on the faith to the next
generation and the urgency of
enabling the subsequent
generations to participate in the
communal story of past
deliverance.
Intentional provision for times of
intergenerational engagement, to
ensure that different generations
interact with one another rather than
being kept segregated. This could
then also include times of sharing
individual stories of faith to
encourage people. Opportunities for
sharing stories, reading together,
asking questions and encouraging
each other.
Right treatment of the poor and
vulnerable in society based on
memory of own experience of
slavery
Active engagement with issues of
justice both at home and abroad.
Where is the poverty and
marginalisation in the parish? How
can the church community enable
and equip people to respond?
How can church and worship be
something that is done with
vulnerable and marginalised people
rather than something that is
provided for them? How can the
poor, vulnerable and marginalised be
intentionally included in times of
celebration?
What is the impact of lifestyle choices
and decision-making particularly on
the poor and vulnerable in
communities abroad?
Remembering God’s love and the
importance of loving God
Using liturgy and worship to
emphasise God’s love for his people
and the people’s response of love
towards God. This can be particularly
stressed at Christmas and Easter, but
also at Pentecost given that it
demonstrates participation in the
missional love of God in that God
send his Spirit on his people in order
for them to be sent into the mission
of God.
Intentional reflection on the story of
the particular parish and local area to
233
demonstrate where God’s love can be
seen in action and creating specific
ways of responding.
Providing opportunities to
remember and continue to commit
to ‘keeping the law’
Regular opportunities to restate
promises of commitment. Obvious
choices for this would be the
beginning of the calendar year or
Easter Sunday as a type of
recommitment of baptismal vows.
Another option could be Advent
Sunday, the beginning of the liturgical
year which could then lead into a
time of renewal and recommitment
during Advent and in the lead up to
Christmas and Epiphany.
Food as a means of providing a
tangible link between God’s
promises in the past and their
present fulfilment
There are numerous opportunities for
church communities to eat together
and many do this regularly. It could
be that these occasions are used
more intentionally to recount God’s
promises during the time of eating,
possibly in a way similar to the Jewish
Passover meal in which the story is
interwoven with the different aspects
of the meal.
The opportunity for the individual
to speak out the promises of God.
Most of the spoken liturgy in
churches is either corporate or
spoken only by a leader. The smaller
the gathering or church community,
the more opportunity there is for
individuals to be able to say
something about their own faith
journey. This might be in terms of
speaking about what has brought
them to baptism or confirmation, or
at an anniversary of their baptism or
confirmation.
These opportunities could also be
used to encourage members of the
church to speak about their life
during the week, whether this is paid
employment or otherwise, and during
234
this to share what difference faith
makes to their weekly work and life.
Space could be provided regularly for
any individual to speak about the
impact of faith on their life that week.
It could also be a more structured
activity, where specific liturgy is
provided for people to say
individually when they want to speak
out the promises of God. This might
be a regular part of the service, or it
might be appropriate, for example,
during a service that commemorates
the church’s Patronal Festival or
founding, or possibly during a service
at the beginning of the year.
Worship is not just an
individualistic act, for example the
farmer prays for blessings for the
whole community not just his own
farm and prosperity
Encouraging members of the
congregation to pray for local,
national and international concerns.
This can easily take place during
regular times of intercession. It could
also be encouraged by sharing
particular points of prayer through
regular church tweets, facebook
posts, Instagram photos or emails;
use of church notice sheets or
bulletins to raise different areas and
focuses for prayer for the coming
week. These could provide
information and encourage people to
commit to pray for a set amount of
time, a week or month for example,
for a particular area of the world,
local community, area of
government, aid agency, business
community, education establishment
etc.
It is worth noting here that up to this point there has been very little
published material to help people think through issues of adaptation and
innovation of Church of England liturgy. In one of the few books that does
235
address this discussion, Earey states that whilst the response to Mission-
shaped Church has provoked changes in church structures, for example
through the bringing about of Bishops’ Mission Orders,
809
there has been no
suggestion of a ‘parallel “principled and careful loosening” or adaptation of
the liturgical rules of the Church of England.’
810
This in turn also reinforces
the point from Chapter One that argued that the primary focus of these
discussions up to now has been on ecclesiology to the neglect of liturgical
matters and questions. Earey does go on to argue for a model of change in
liturgical adaptation, but he does this by introducing the concept of ‘set
theory’, which is originally a mathematical modelling theory, rather than the
biblical paradigm that is being presented here.
Integration of children
One of the significant points that was raised in several ways throughout this
work has been the importance placed on children within the worshipping
community. This can be seen in two particular ways, one being the
significance of the question the children ask in Deut 6; the other the specific
inclusion of children in the gathering of the community to hear and respond
to the law and also to commit to the covenant at the covenant renewal
ceremony in Deut 29. Both points demonstrate adaptation of previous
practices. The child’s question adapts what is found in the related Exodus
passage and the community inclusion adapts the practices found elsewhere in
the Pentateuch. As well as this, the inclusion of the children touches on
points raised by the section on radical democratisation. This emphasised the
involvement of the whole wider community, adapting the pattern from
previous law codes which focused on the roles and responsibilities of the
community’s recognised leaders, specifying the inclusion of women, children
and resident aliens among those who are both to hear and respond to the
law. This section will explore adaptation of current practice to include
809
M. Earey, Beyond Common Worship: Anglican Identity and Liturgical Diversity, (London:
SCM Press, 2013) p. 54.
810
Earey, Beyond Common Worship, p. 55.
236
children more fully as part of the worshipping community. This particular
example explores ways of adapting practices to demonstrate intentional
integration of children into the worshipping community for a celebration of
Holy Communion.
The Church of England has already begun to think through liturgical
adaptation to include children more fully in worship through the production
and publication of two Eucharistic Prayers that are ‘suitable for use on
occasions when a significant number of children are present or when it is
otherwise pastorally appropriate to meet the needs to children present.’
811
The rubrics are clear that this is intended for ‘occasions such as a school
Eucharist, not for use on a weekly basis at the main celebration of Holy
Community in the parish church.’
812
The two prayers as set out are not significantly shorter than some of the
original Common Worship Eucharistic prayers, and although care has been
taken to modify language, some traditional phrasing has been intentionally
maintained to form a basis of continuity with existing practice. It is
understandable why choices that emphasise continuity have been made, but
this has produced two prayers that are still reasonably long and contain
words that would not be immediately accessible to children. It is also true
that, despite being deliberately written to include children in worship, their
actual direct participation is quite limited, either saying corporately the
repeated refrain ‘holy, holy, holy’ or ‘amen, amen, amen’ in Prayer One, or
asking three short questions in the ‘seder-style’ adopted in Prayer Two.
In terms of providing liturgy for an adapted service of Holy Communion in
order to include children more fully, only Eucharistic prayers have been
provided. There are no extra provisions for the rest of the service, although
there is encouragement to think through other parts of the service that ‘allow
811
The Archbishop’s Council, Additional Eucharistic Prayers with guidance on celebrating the
Eucharist with children, (London: Church House Publishing, 2012) p. 1.
812
The Archbishop’s Council, Additional Eucharistic Prayers, p. 1.
237
for the composition of fresh material. Such texts include: The individual lines
of a Kyrie confession; Prayers of intercession for the Church and the world;
Introductions to the Peace; Short prayers for use at the preparation of the
table; Short proper prefaces; The seder-style questions and answers in Prayer
Two.’
813
This is encouraging to think through areas of adaptation, but the
further guidelines suggest that while children could be involved in helping to
develop these parts of liturgy, this inclusion is only a suggestion.
814
Equally,
although this presents areas for potential further adaptation and
involvement, these are all texts or spoken words, and no guidance is provided
in terms of movement or anything sensory, as compared with the provision in
Deuteronomy as has been noted through this study.
The two new Eucharistic Prayers are a move towards exploring adaptation
within Eucharistic services to include and involve children more in the liturgy
of the service, but, building from the work of the previous chapters, there are
important points that encourage creative adaptive practices. For example,
the importance of including movement and engaging the senses in worship;
enabling each person to have the opportunity to respond in some way; the
opportunity for each child to ask a question, rather than a representative
child or small group asking on behalf of others; the importance of hearing the
story, committing to it, living by it and passing it on to the next generation.
There are opportunities where these points could be picked up in adaptations
throughout the whole service and not just in the Eucharistic prayers. These
points will be explored in more detail below.
Movement and sensory involvement
If a service of Holy Communion is taking place in a school there is potential for
using space beyond the hall or classroom to introduce movement. For
example, the liturgy could begin in classrooms or other points of initial
gathering before joining together in the place where the service is to be held.
It might also be possible to locate sections of the service in different parts of
813
The Archbishop’s Council, Additional Eucharistic Prayers, p. 10.
814
The Archbishop’s Council, Additional Eucharistic Prayers, p. 10.
238
the hall or the wider school building, especially if the reading includes themes
of movement or travelling. If the service takes place in a building other than
the school, then a sense of pilgrimage could be created as the children travel
to a church, for example, for the service. This could by aided by using a
version of one or more of the psalms used by pilgrims coming to Jerusalem
for a festival, or items that represent different aspects of the school
community or parts of the liturgy being gathered from the school building and
taken to the church.
In a church building the physical space could be used to explore and walk
through the story of the communion service. Anglican churches often reflect
their theology through their buildings, for example having the font near the
door to show an entrance into the faith or the shape of the cross reflected in
the larger architectural structures. It would not be difficult, especially in a
more traditionally shaped Anglican church, to make use of these architectural
features as part of the service and to conduct or lead particular sections from
different areas. These different areas could be used, for example, drawing
attention to particular points of welcome, confession, sung worship, prayers,
communion and dismissal. Thinking through movement and the use of the
physical space has to be something that is very much adapted to the local
situation, as it relies entirely on what is available locally.
There are further ways in which senses can be engaged in worship, beyond
the usual candles and incense of some churches, and bearing in mind that
lighting candles may not be allowed in some school buildings or community
centres. Battery powered ‘t-lights’ could be used during confession to
represent darkness of sin and the light of forgiveness. Time can be spent
creating with the children images that depict their prayers and concerns, or
important features of their immediate and wider local area and community.
These could be brought up as part of an offering, used as a focus for prayers
during the service, or placed around the school for the rest of the week as a
reminder of what took place. The children could be involved in making bread
for the service, or a bread-maker could be used so that the children can smell
239
the bread baking throughout the service. Children could participate in making
and decorating a chalice and paten for use in the service, thinking through
themes and images that reflect their local area. This could be done at the
beginning of the new community in a more permanent way, or through use of
disposable cups and plates for other times of worship. Play dough, or
something similar, could be used at various points in the service to encourage
the children to create shapes or models of an aspect of the reading, how they
feel about being forgiven, or a person or place that they want to pray for. The
children could be taught how to fold a boat out of a piece of paper if the
reading includes a reference to one. There are also many opportunities to
bring in something physical that relates to an item from the reading, for
example a sheep’s fleece, a shepherd’s crook, incense or anointing oil to
smell, grain, roasted meat, sand and so forth. All of these would engage the
body more fully in worship and prevent services being focused almost entirely
on words.
Speaking out loud
The actual amount that the child or children say aloud during the new
Eucharistic prayers is minimal, and although the question in Deut 6 is not
substantial either, the impression given is that each child would have the
opportunity to ask this question within their own family. One way that this
could be adapted is that the ‘seder-style’ questions of Prayer Two could be
extended to other parts of the service, so that there are questions at other
key points. This could be used to introduce new sections of the service, for
example the prayers of confession or the Bible readings. This could also
develop into a way of encouraging the children to engage with the service
through having the opportunity to ask questions. This might be providing the
opportunity for children to think through their questions before the service,
or to having space to enable spontaneous questions either throughout or at
specific points. An opportunity for engagement through questions would
provide the time for the community to think together about what Gittoes
calls the ‘source event’, in terms of what this means for the individuals and
240
the community, how is it lived out and what difference it make in people’s
day to day lives. This then provides the opportunity for each child to ask a
question if not in front of the whole group then in smaller groups, or for
smaller groups of children to work together or develop their own question for
the wider group. This would not necessarily need to be a lengthy discussion,
but could be contained within specified parameters.
Opportunity to commit and re-commit
One of the important themes throughout Deuteronomy is the call to commit
and recommit to the laws that are being given, to commit to live according to
them and to pass them on to others. The point in the service where a ‘creed’
is normally used could be a natural point of commitment, but using the time
to be more specific about what faith is and giving the opportunity to reaffirm
people’s commitment to God, something not dissimilar to the covenant
renewal ceremony in Deut 29.
Prayer
Times of prayer and intercession are opportunities for introducing points of
adaptation into services. It can be a point in the service for people to move
around and provides the opportunity for encouraging personal involvement,
conversation between people and active, physical engagement with what is
taking place. One possible approach would be to use different parts of the
building as prompts for prayer. This might simply be a way of using the space
and introducing a time of movement, but it might also encourage a reflection
on different parts of the building. For example, in a church building the space
used for children’s or young people’s groups could be a place for praying for
vulnerable children around the world. Similarly, an area that serves tea and
coffee could be used to focus prayers on welcome and hospitality to others.
In a school building, it might be that rooms are multi-purpose and so the
same room may be used for teaching, assemblies and eating. These three
areas can then provide lots of input in terms of praying for children who are
unable to go to school, praying for people who are in positions of leadership,
and praying for those who face hunger and poverty. It is important, though,
241
that this is not simply seen as setting out little activities to keep the children
entertained, but engaging with liturgy through the inclusion of children as a
way of ensuring that all present participate together.
This section has set out some ways in which adaptation could take place in
the specific context of a school’s or children’s Eucharistic service. This is not
to imply that this type of service is the only situation in which liturgical
adaptation could take place, nor that the above list is exhaustive in containing
all the possibilities. Instead, this has begun to demonstrate that the paradigm
developed through the work of this study has a genuine, practical application
in terms of thinking through liturgical adaptation in a missional context.
Innovation of first fruits
One particular point of innovation that has come out of this study was the
need to introduce a new festival, namely the harvest festival of ‘First Fruits’,
into the annual worshipping calendar of the community on settling into the
Promised Land. As was noted previously, this is not to suggest innovation in
comparison with the wider Pentateuch, but innovation in view of the
narrative setting at a point of transition between a nomadic and a settled
lifestyle in a new context. It is also important to note that the ‘First Fruits’
celebration was an example of adaptation, in that it was not found in the
expected position in the text in comparison with similar passages in the rest
of the Pentateuch.
The key point from this, then, becomes the question of how to innovate and
adapt a ‘new’ festival for a new cultural context. As was mentioned before,
the festival calendar of the Jews has had an influence on the Christian
community’s practice of festivals and celebrations and this can be observed
through the continuing agrarian focus of worship. For the purposes of this
exploration, the focus here will be to consider the role of Harvest Festival
particularly in social contexts where a rural celebration of crop production no
longer has any meaningful relevance for the community. This picks up on
important questions about the relevance of a harvest festival celebration for a
242
particularly urban environment where people have no contact with crops or
agriculture. Equally, what does a harvest festival mean for those who are
suffering from poverty and hardship themselves, and may find it difficult to
bring extra food to give away? The further question of community integration
is raised in areas where much of the literal ‘harvesting’ of produce is carried
out by migrant workers who may not participate in the wider community, and
where there are tensions around race and employment. These are important
questions given the repeated emphasis that is found throughout
Deuteronomy on the importance of providing for the poor, the vulnerable
and the marginalised, and each raises questions about how they might
influence a service of harvest celebration.
What is being celebrated?
If the argument that a rurally-focused harvest festival loses any sense of
meaning and connection in an urban, deprived setting, then a primary
question should ask what it is that is being celebrated and how closely this
relates to traditional concepts of harvest. Clearly, there is still much potential
in exploring where food comes from and how it ends up in shops. But rather
than focusing on local fields, this could lead to exploring issues of food
sustainability, understanding concepts of ‘food miles’ in terms of how far food
has been transported, and for thinking through issues of fair-trade and trade
impact on producers around the world. This would need to be led sensitively
in an area of high poverty where there may be a lack of resources to fund
buying different products.
Underlying part of the celebration of First Fruits in Deut 26, is the recognition
of God’s promises and provision of the land alongside the deliverance of his
people from slavery to freedom. An area of focus for thanksgiving could be
the local area more generally with particularly with positive things that can be
celebrated that have happened that year. This might be, for example, a
redevelopment of the children’s playground, the local shops that have
opened, the new sensory garden in the local old people’s home and so forth.
It might also be that there are specific issues of housing that can be
243
celebrated together by the worshipping community. For example, someone
who lived on the streets, or on friends’ sofas, who has moved into
accommodation for the first time in years; a time to celebrate a step-family
coming together and creating a new family community; a refugee family who
have been given right to remain; or the provision of specialised equipment
that has allowed an elderly or disabled person to remain in their own home.
Something that could be particularly appropriate, and would maintain a
stronger link with the idea of harvest, would be to start a community
allotment or similar type project at the ‘Harvest Festival’ one year, with the
commitment to celebrate together with what has been grown by the
community at the same event in a year’s time. This provides the opportunity
for children in an urban setting to learn about growing and producing food, it
provides opportunities for local people to be involved in a church-based
project, and it could also be linked to a local foodbank or help to provide food
for struggling local individuals and families.
Moving the timing of the celebration
As noted previously, the instructions for the celebration of ‘First Fruits’ were
not found in the same location as compared with the wider Pentateuch, and it
was argued that it was moved to fit in with the wider theological and
rhetorical aims of Deuteronomy. This gives scope for asking about the timing
of a ‘harvest’ festival in an urban setting. If there is no longer any real
connection with the literal harvesting of products in a field in that particular
local community, a ‘harvest festival’ does not necessarily need to take place in
autumn. It could be that there is a particular time for that specific local
community that would be much more appropriate for a celebration of
offering, rededication and thanksgiving. One possibility would be to link this
with the church’s patronal festival to connect with the story and history of the
church in serving the local community. This can be a service that is ignored or
over-looked in many churches and would provide a way of also giving more
identity to this celebration as well. A further alternative would be to think
through how different times of the year might affect the local community. A
244
seaside parish may be affected by seasonal fishing or the impact of seasonal
employment reflecting the influx of visitors over the summer, or it might be
that seasonal employment around Christmas has an important effect on the
local community and this could be a time of particular thanksgiving alongside
Christmas celebrations. Some communities already have existing times of
annual celebration or community days or events in local parks that are
organised by local councils and community groups. These could also be
occasions to connect with, thinking through how the Church can celebrate the
gifts of the wider community.
Communal eating and celebrating
An important point from Deut 26 that is significant here is the way the
community celebrated together through eating with each other, but
importantly how this also included those who were most vulnerable and
marginalised in the community. It may be possible to organise a celebration
meal for the Church but to encourage them to think through how this can also
include the vulnerable members of their community. This might be people
who are homeless, refugees, elderly, single parents, those with long-term
health concerns, or the struggling who have needed to use food banks to feed
their families. There are several ways in which the church could include
people in their communal eating and celebrating. It could be either that food
is taken out to people as part of the act of worship and communal
celebration, or that those who are able, join in with communal eating and
celebrating.
Employment and immigration
The basic idea of the First Fruits celebration in Deut 26 was that the farmer
brought along the produce of his work as an offering. Whilst not only is the
concept of harvest potentially complicated for people living in a very urban
setting, in some parishes levels of unemployment can be very high, and the
connection between work and productivity is, to a large extent, minimal. A
very local example of this reality, according to the work published by the
Church Urban Fund in 2016, is Broxtowe parish which is ranked as the 13th
245
most deprived parish in the country. In this parish, working-age poverty is
put at 32%, based ‘on the proportion of working-age adults who experience
income deprivation. This includes those in receipt of Job Seeker’s Allowance,
Employment and Support Allowance, Incapacity Benefit, Severe Disablement
Allowance and Carer’s Allowance.’
815
A further problem for those who are
employed can be the issue of working contracts that do not guarantee any
employment or pay. According to the Office for National Statistics, in October
– December, 2016, 905,000 people were on so-called ‘zero hours’ contracts.
A massive increase in the space of ten years from 168,000 in 2010.
816
Care
then needs to be taken to think though ways in which a celebration of
offering, in an environment where working patterns are limited and complex,
can be used to affirm and support the local community.
Bringing an offering
One way in which offerings can be reimagined for areas of deprivation arises
out of Deut 16:16-17 and the instructions found there. It is an open
description, not specifying what it should be or the amount, or that it needs
to be the same as anyone else, but the importance is that it reflects the
individual’s ability to give. This would introduce the opportunity to invite
people to bring something that represents a gift, skill or ability that they have,
rather than focusing on work. This could remain associated with food in some
way, possibly baking or cooking, or bringing produce that has been grown in
gardens, tubs or on a windowsill. But there is also the opportunity to
recognise and celebrate gifts and skills beyond just the limits of the food that
is normally associated with a harvest celebration. So, for example, someone
could bring up an item that has been made by hand, either through knitting or
sewing, or through painting or woodwork. There could be an encouragement
to bring a picture, word or object that represents someone’s place of work, or
if they are a carer something that represents their work and service. This
815
The diocesan report for Southwell and Nottingham diocese produced by the Church Urban
Fund. https://www.cuf.org.uk/Handlers/Download.ashx?IDMF=5598a48c-8bf8-4478-aa10-
9ad2e2f19fe7
816
https://www.ons.gov.uk/employmentandlabourmarket/peopleinwork/earningsandworkin
ghours/datasets/zerohourssummarydatatables
246
then provides an opportunity to help people think through their own value
and gifts. This becomes a significant piece of ministry by working hard to
recognise everyone’s gifts, talents and the difference they make in other
people’s lives, and to recognise and celebrate that together as part of the
wider community.
In Deut 26 each person had the opportunity to speak out the story of God’s
salvation and provision and to pray for the wider community. In light of this,
a short, simple summary could be provided for people to read as they bring
up their offering. Similarly, there could be encouragement for each person to
pray for a particular place in the wider community. Again, simple wording
could be provided enabling people to pray for God’s blessing on particular
streets, the local school, the community centres, shops or areas that are
known to be problems at night, for example.
Celebrating the harvest also raises issues of immigration and migrant workers
for some local communities, given that some harvesting of produce in this
country is undertaken by workers travelling in for a short-time from other
countries and then returning home. Harvest could be an opportunity for
allowing people to share about the issues of employment, migration and work
opportunities. To acknowledge issues that may not otherwise be talked
about much in church services, but to find a way to do this constructively,
provides space for people to share their experiences and to find a way in
which to create a positive environment.
Not just innovation
It is important to note that even with the focus on innovation in this section,
this does not occur with an absence of adaptation and continuity. It was
noted that the instructions for ‘First Fruits’ are adapted away from the
expected location. As well as this, the concept of bringing offerings in
worship to God as an expression of thankfulness, meeting together as a
community and so forth is clearly in continuity with wider Pentateuchal texts.
In the light of this and the context of the wider discussion of fresh expressions
247
of church in an Anglican context, it is deeply significant to note that
throughout this study of Deuteronomy the three liturgical characteristics of
continuity, adaptation and innovation are inter-related. Although at times
one is emphasised, this is not to the complete absence of the other two
strands. Pure innovation loses any sense of continuity with what has gone
before, whilst continuity alone does not recognise the reality of continued
adaptation and innovation to context that is observed through liturgical
history. As a liturgical paradigm for Anglican mission, the three strands
enable a continued connection with what has gone before whilst
simultaneously encouraging cultural and contextual adaptation and
innovation. The ultimate purpose behind this, as is seen throughout
Deuteronomy, is to form the people of God and to prioritise care for the poor,
vulnerable and marginalised.
Conclusion and Summary
This study has addressed the important question of why there is deadlock in
current discussions of fresh expressions of church in an Anglican context. A
liturgical hermeneutic was developed in order to create a liturgical, biblical
paradigm of continuity, adaptation and innovation. This final chapter has
shown that the two fundamental positions, as demonstrated by Mission-
shaped Church and For the Parish, both have important contributions to make
to this on-going conversation, but emphasise innovation or continuity
respectively, to the detriment of the other. What the work from
Deuteronomy illustrated, was the importance of holding continuity,
adaptation and innovation together, and that although at times one was
emphasised over the other two, all three were always present to some
degree. This chapter has taken this liturgical paradigm and sought to provide
two worked examples that begin to demonstrate how a liturgical response
that holds together continuity, adaptation and innovation could function in an
248
Anglican missional context, with a particular emphasis on participation and
service. There is not space in this current work to continue developing these
worked examples, but there is clearly potential for engaging with other
significant points arising out of this work and exploring how these could
develop in a liturgical and missional setting. This would include, for example,
developing the work from the points raised about radical democratisation and
the importance of loving God and God’s love for his people, and exploring
what this might look like in an Anglican liturgical and missional context.
This work has intentionally responded to the lack of thorough exegetical and
also liturgical work missing thus far in this important discussion as both are
important for Anglican theological tradition and practice. This also responds,
in part, to important questions raised about the use of the Bible, and
particularly the Old Testament, in contemporary Anglican theology, reflection
and church practice.
817
Seitz, for example, has argued that what was needed
was a ‘via media’ between either a solely ‘propositional’ approach or a solely
‘biblical critical’ approach. As he describes it, holding together what both of
these positions have to offer, ‘but then to move beyond both toward a
recovery of a method for interpreting Scripture not antagonistic to
“traditional” readings from earlier age, capable of reasonably assessing
literary “repugnance,” but finally concerned to find larger unitary purpose
and theological synthesis in a book on whose interpretation the life of the
church depends.’
818
The paradigmatic approach used in this study begins to
responds to this need, but is obviously not a complete answer to all the issues
Seitz raises in his article.
There is also potential for further study that arises out of significant points
raised through this approach to the text that could not be explored here. For
example, a clear point that arose was the importance placed on passing on
the faith to the next generation. A significant liturgical question in response
817
C. R. Seitz, ‘Biblical authority in the late twentieth century: The Baltimore Declaration,
Scripture-reason-tradition, and the Canonical approach’ in ATR 75:4, 1993, pp. 471-487.
818
Seitz, ‘Biblical authority in the late twentieth century’, p. 479.
249
to this is to challenge the level to which children are actively engaged in wider
current Church of England liturgy, and how, or even if, they are being
provided with opportunities to participate and contribute.
Further to this was the important point of ‘radical democratisation’ that arose
from the study of Deut 26 in Chapter Four. It is clear that there is further
work to be done in this area as only a sample of texts contributed to this
particular theme, therefore there is scope for examining this theme in
Deuteronomy more fully. As well as this, there is also the potential for
exploring what this would look like in a missional, Anglican context in terms of
implications for practice. This concept would also have much to contribute to
current discussions of Church, leadership and participation.
As well as the potential contribution that on-going work from this study could
make to Anglican discussions, there is also potential arising from the biblical
studies work that has, thus far, focused on Deuteronomy. Given that this has
arisen initially from an overview of the text as a whole, followed by a focused
case-study of two chapters, there is clearly scope for further study of other
chapters in Deuteronomy where this hermeneutical approach could be
fruitful. It would be interesting to explore further chapters that have been
previously described as ‘liturgical’ and chapters that have not, to see whether
using this liturgical hermeneutic supports or challenges these assumptions.
Using this approach to the text has raised significant points not only about the
internal structure of the text, for example the inclusio in Deut 6 as set out in
Chapter Three, but it has also drawn attention to important points that have
been taken back to the initial question.
There is also potential to take the hermeneutic beyond Deuteronomy and
apply it to other texts. This could then provide a further contribution to this
particular question or explore what arises from these texts when this
approach is adopted and to see how these further readings might contribute
to other areas of church life and areas of practical theology. This approach
would also provide a clearer liturgical definition for these passages, as has
250
been shown through this study. An obvious starting place would be to move
from Deuteronomy to the other books within the Pentateuch, given the
sharing of narrative incidents between these books. Possible texts could
include, for example, Exod 23:10-19, given the instructions provided for both
the Sabbath as well as the three annual pilgrimage festivals; Exod 29, the
instructions provided for the consecration of Aaron and his sons; Lev 16, the
instructions given for the Day of Atonement; Lev 23-25 which contains
instructions for a number of significant liturgical occasions, Sabbath, Passover,
offering of the First Fruits, the three Pilgrimage festivals, and the Day of
Atonement. Similarly, Num 28-29 which contain detailed instructions
regarding a variety of offerings. Wider Old Testament passages that it would
be interesting to explore through this hermeneutical approach could also
include a comparative study of 1 Kgs 8 and 2 Chr 7 exploring the themes of
continuity, adaptation and innovation.
251
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